


You'll Get What You Deserve

by seawhore



Category: Black Parade - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance, Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance (Song)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brain Surgery, Death, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Memory Loss, Nudity, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Lives, References to Depression, References to Illness, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 34,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seawhore/pseuds/seawhore
Summary: I had never expected more than darkness when death finally caught up with me. Little did I know there would be life after death, and it would be much worse than where I came from. The Black Parade is not a place for the weak, and I deserve nothing but the worst.
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This all started as a writing challenge I gave myself after finding an old fic I wrote on mychemicalromance.com when I was 12. I'm now 22 and wanted to see if I could improve upon it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

I died on the 23rd of October, 2006. The morning started like any other, the early morning rain against the window waking me up in the familiar, white hospital room. I blinked up at the fluorescent lamp shining down on me, staring in confusion of why I was only able to see the left side of it. I remember the low, worried voices of the nurses as they spoke in codes before rushing me down the long, sterile hallway. I watched the ceiling as the lights flashed by like fast cars on the highway, seeing my life flash before my eyes as it left me behind. We had known that I was deadly ill for some time now, a tumor the size of a clementine grew bigger every day as it pushed onto my frontal lobe. The doctor had called it a meningioma as he pointed to a chart of the brain for my parents to see, circling the left side with the laser pointer. They had all cried, my family. My father took it the worst. After a while, he simply stopped visiting me as he drowned himself in his police work. He wasn’t there on the 23rd, the weather was too bad for him to make the drive from his office downtown. My mother’s wet, curly hair dripped down on my face as she leaned over me to kiss me goodbye.  
“We’ll see each other later, okay?”  
My mother's voice was low when she asked, holding back her tears as she ran her fingers through my black hair. I tried calming her nerves by smiling, waving goodbye as they rolled me away. It felt like a thousand lights rushed past me as the bed rolled down the long hallway and into the pale blue operating room. I remember the anesthetic nurse leaning over to look down at me as the sharp pain from the IV transformed into comforting bliss.

“You won’t feel a thing.” She promised as I floated off and ceased to be.

I didn’t. Dying didn’t hurt at all. It was a pleasant feeling, like being swaddled in a warm blanket after a long day outdoors. The pain that had been pushing against the left side of my forehead was finally gone, leaving me at the same times as I left everyone behind. It felt like the thing tearing me apart to escape had finally got out, parting ways like old friends even though I never wished to feel like that ever again. There was relief in death and I was ready. It had been in my future for a while, and I had come to terms with it. I had fought my battle and now I would become nothing more than a memory, a burden finally lifted off of my family’s shoulders. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were happy now that I became a smile in a picture frame, instead than a sad sight in a hospital bed. I would become a day they mourned and a concept to miss, and I was at peace with that.

But to my surprise, I opened my eyes. The ground felt cold beneath me as I looked up at the gray blanket of clouds above me. My eyes burned as the light blinded me, filling with water as I fought to keep them open in the harsh sunlight. A tear fled my eye, making a shiver run down what I presumed to be my back. And as my eyes adjusted, I could see the wind as it ruffled the dead leaves lining the skies above me, singing their own eerie song. I could feel my chest rise as I filled my lungs with the stinging air surrounding me, feeling my ribs close to cracking as I let out a loud cough. The realization that I still had a body came as much of a surprise as being able to see. I tried feeling for my fingers, counted five on both hands. Two arms, one chest, two legs, one head. Everything was there: aching from laying on the ground, but not in any serious pain. I had completely forgotten how it felt to be uncomfortable after enduring so many years of endless agony. My eyes felt heavy as I embraced the feeling for a bit, it was honestly the best I had felt in ages. Staying like this felt safe, even if I knew I had to go on sooner or later. I dreaded the next step, scared to see if I could get up or not. It didn’t hurt to try, but a small voice in the back of my head reminded me that I wasn’t able to go back where I came from. I decided on challenging the voice as I exhaled the heavy air, collecting all my strength as I hoisted myself up. My shaking arms supported my frail body as the view changed from grey clouds to a world on fire. Big piles of burning wood and metal surrounded me, fresh smoke escaping towards the sky. But it wasn’t a forest fire, it looked more like the aftermath of war. The small flames colored the otherwise monochrome horizon in front of me, dancing with the wind as she ran past. This wasteland was probably a beautiful forest once, filled with life and colors. But in death, there was only black and white.

I sat there for a while, feeling the cold ground against my bare thighs as I listened to the occasional spark of burning metal off in the distance. The wind howled through the dead trees, screaming as it tore through the branches up above. There was an omniscient beauty to this world, though cold and abandoned. I didn’t expect much of death; to be honest I hadn’t expected anything. I once dared to imagine comfortable darkness, not feeling a single thing as my electrons went on to become something better. I couldn’t help but wonder as I sat there breathing the heavy air and looking around. Was I alone?  
On shaking legs, I started collecting all of my strength. My knees ached as I hoisted myself up, nausea following me on the way up while the world changed around me. Standing up felt surreal, even if the speed made me feel dizzy as I staggered to my feet. I felt like Bambi on ice, trying my hardest to keep my balance as the world slipped around underneath me. I stood like this for a while, shaking while trying to collect myself. The sweat made my hair collect into thick strands against my forehead as I tried to gather all my courage, knowing that I had to move on. Walking had been a distant memory for so long, the concept of putting one leg in front of the other almost felt revolutionary. The last time I walked myself was more than one and a half years ago, when I walked to school for the last time. The doctors were happy I had listened to their advice not to drive, but I only felt embarrassed. They told my parents about how I had collapsed halfway, that a group of teenagers found me out cold on the side of the road. They told us I was lucky that they found me, as the cold midwest temperatures were guaranteed to give me hypothermia if I stayed any longer.  
I looked down on my legs. They were black and blue with bruises, making the white socks I died in stand out. They were still clean, shining white as snow against the ashen ground. I enjoyed the sight of them for a while, knowing that they would get black with soot as soon as I found the strength to go. I looked around, my mind racing as it tried to decide on what my next move would be. There was no way to separate north from south in this world, the wind felt like it came from every direction as it playfully ruffled the leaves. I filled my lungs with the burning air as I started to walk. One leg in front of the other, repeating into the unknown direction that hopefully would lead me to somewhere.

There was nothing but endless wasteland as I made my way into the strange horizon. An hour had gone by, maybe two without a single sign of life before I heard it. The steady beat of a drum penetrated the silent air off in the distance, feeling like it was miles in front of me. My heart started pounding in my chest, beating in unison with the hollow sound. I had no choice, I had to make it over there- and so I decided to continue onwards. Every few minutes I would instinctively look down on my wrist, only to feel the heavy feeling of disappointment in my stomach. The old watch I had received as a gift for my 20th birthday had been carefully taken off of me before surgery, and was probably still laying in the surgical tray back in the life I had left behind.   
«It used to belong to your grandmother.» My father had explained as I opened the small box tied neatly with a blue ribbon. My grandmother had died young too, but unlike me it was an accident. She had been perfectly healthy the day a young man decided to ram his car into her on her way home; leaving my grandfather with the responsibility of two sons. But she had been a tragedy, and I had been a burden. A person had attacked her, while my own body decided to attack me. There wasn’t any tragedy in brain tumors, only sleepless nights and endless pain. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would get to meet her in this life. I would have to apologize to her for only bringing clean socks and a hospital gown, and not the watch she probably was very fond of. I had been. 

The steady rhythm drew closer as I continued to walk forwards into the unknown. There wasn’t much change in the scenery no matter how far I walked, except for abandoned clearings surrounded by ruins that I could lean on. The breaks were sorely needed as the smoke filled my lungs every time I drew breath. I leaned forward to cough, meeting the cold ground underneath me as my core strength threw me to my knees. I had only smoked once before, at a house party in high school. They were passing around a cigarette on the balcony, my crush taking a deep breath before passing it to me. I wanted so badly to impress her, and she made it look so easy. I had panicked as the smoke made my face turn pale, only to make me puke seconds later. I don’t think she was very impressed by this, and I snuck out too soon to ever find out. 

My stomach turned as I fought my hardest not to reenact my worst memory, but I had to give in. There wasn’t anything to throw up, and it just became an unpleasant belch as I sat there on the cold ground. The sound of drums off in the distance grew louder as I sat there in a cold sweat, contemplating if it was even worth it moving forwards. I played with the thought of just laying down again, closing my eyes and eventually waking up from this horrible nightmare. It was terribly tempting, waking up under the soft hospital blanket to see my mother again. Maybe my brother had made it, she told me that she would call him even though he’s two cities over at college. “He cares about you, you know that...” she had said as she stroked my cheek with her cold hand. Maybe the storm had calmed down enough for my father to come, stroking my hair as he grumbled about wanting to buzz all of it off. Seeing their faces motivated me to continue on.

I staggered myself to my feet again, only to feel confused of which direction was forward and which one was back. It all blended together after a while, the scenery looking the same and utterly different at the same time. No tree looked the alike, but I could never tell them apart even if my life depended on it. This world was nothing like the one I came from, it certainly didn’t follow the same rules I was used to. The burning woods started opening up again, leading me into the middle of the clearing. I lost my balance as the terrain changed underneath my bare feet. It was much harder to find solid footing here than back in the forest, my feet sinking down into the soft gravel as I tried to move forward. This clearing was much bigger than the one I had woken up in, and after a minute of inspection I realized that this had to be this world's version of a road. Maybe something drove through here, digging deep grooves as it heavily rolled through. I wondered if they even had cars in death. My grandmother would probably not be fond of that. I imagined going to heaven: ready for relief after years of pain, only to realize that everybody in heaven had constant, endless brain tumors. The thought made a cold shiver run down my back, and I decided not to think about it anymore. Hopefully for my grandmother's sake, a horse pulling a heavy carriage was the true source to the tracks. 

Standing in the middle of the road made me feel vulnerable, like a small animal ready to be attacked by an unseen enemy. There wasn't a single sign of life in the wasteland, but it felt too soon to rule out the chance of a burning bear coming out of the forest ready to maul the lonely corpse wandering around. I wondered what would happen if a bear decided to kill me here. Would I just wake up again in the clearing where I started, like a video game character when you hit reset? Maybe it would be like that story my father read to me so long ago, the one with the brothers who died and woke up in a new world called “Nangijala”. Maybe if I died, I could wake up in the water world instead of this burning one. Not that my swimming abilities were any better than my walking ones.   
The drumming grew louder and louder as I stood there in the middle of the gravel road. The rocks jumped and danced around in the trenches as the steady beat moved ever closer. It took a while before I realized it. The sound was coming towards me. And as the sound grew louder, it mixed with sound of marching footsteps: their feet hitting the gravel road in unison. It sounded like a marching band, ribbed of the joyous music. Maybe they were military, maybe that’s why the forest looks like a battlefield? Was the source of destruction coming steadily towards me, and was all I could do just standing here? I was like a deer in the headlights, my brain couldn’t grasp the concept of moving away. That was when I saw it. Hundreds of people wearing masks, all dressed in black. The parade wagon, decorated with red and black roses was lead by a woman dressed in a long, victorian dress; a white gas mask covering her face. I fell to my knees again, letting myself become engulfed by the darkness once more.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up in a bed for the second time today. Opening my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the absence of the familiar fluorescent lighting shining down on me. It should be blinding me, why isn't it blinding me? The lamp I knew so well from staring up at them for close to two years was replaced by a dirty yellowish canvas that unmistakably belonged to a tent. A groan escaped me as I realized that this wasn't a fucked up dream, like I had hoped. I was still here, wherever this was. Was I kidnapped? I wasn’t tied down by the feeling of it, but it took too much effort to sit up to check. Tears was pushing on as I struggled to hold them back, the disappointment too strong for my mind to handle. There was nothing I wanted more to be back, to keep the promise my mother had made. I wanted to see her again, to see my father as he leaned casually in the doorway. I missed the sterile smells, the ugly hospital curtains. I missed the horrid, snot green chair my mother always claimed- only giving it up the few times my brother made his way down from college. But this wasn't that, it was so far from it as it could get. The yellowish canvas above me was taunting me, blowing gently in what I presumed to be the stinging wind that accompanied me on my journey here. There was nothing I wanted more to scream, but something within me knew I had to keep quiet. I was in a tent, but that was everything I knew- it would be foolish to let my emotions take over. Information had to come before impulses, I needed to find out where I was. 

"Mother, the patient is awake." 

I heard a voice from my left, a stern but friendly voice. It had to be a nurse, as she referred to what I assumed to be me as a patient? But it would be weird for a nurse to call her boss' mother. Maybe she was the daughter? Maybe I was sleeping in the daughter's bed, just like Goldilocks did? But as I sank deeper into the bed, I couldn’t say like her that it was «just right». It was a bit on the harder side, and the covers were too thin to cozy up with. It made me feel anxious, not knowing where I was. I could hear footsteps leaving the tent and muffled voices from the outside, probably discussing me. Should I sit up before this mother enters the tent? I quickly made a decision on it being the most polite thing to do, after all: they had put me in a bed to rest not even knowing who I was. Hopefully they didn't have a problem with me. I did the finger check again, five and five. Then arms, only two of them but that was plenty. I hoisted myself upright, deciding to lean forwards as the bed didn’t have a headboard. The world was spinning, tempting me to lay back down in fear of belching once more. It wouldn’t be a great first impression, that was for sure. As the world slowed down I could finally look at where I was. The tent was what I assumed to be medical tent, the scraggly look made it look like a set of a war movie. There was a metal table with small silver tools, and by the canvas wall stood a shelf containing a sea bottles of dark medicine in different heights and shapes. By each side of the bed stood small wooden stools, probably for a nurse to sit on to keep watch or maybe a family member looking over a relative.   
The tent opening flew open to reveal a tall woman, wearing a white gas mask. She took my breath away as I recognized her, making me hold it as she made her way over to me. Her curly brown hair complimented the faded canvas, her old-timey dress making her look straight out of a twisted victorian painting. Her presence made me feel small as sweat started forming on my forehead. I desperately wanted to sink into the bed and disappear as she came my way, towering over me. I could see her cold, blue eyes through the clouded glass in the mask: eager to inspect what I presumed to be her latest victim. I instinctively pulled the covers towards myself like they would shield me from her, but her x-ray vision felt like it could see right through it.

"Water?"

The woman stretched a hand towards me, a small metal cup in her hand. Not until then had I realized that my body felt like I had fallen asleep in scorching sunlight. Breathing all the smoke and ashes had left my throat parched, and my brain quickly concluded this cup of water would save my life. I put the cold metal against my cracked lips, letting the water run down my throat. Feeling the water run like a river inside me was one of the best thing I had ever felt, the euphoric feeling building up and making me forget the hard bed that made all the bruises and aches hurt even more. But the feeling was short lived as the small cup soon became empty. 

"Are you done?"

I nodded my head enthusiastically as I reached out my arm to give her the cup back, not knowing why I was reacting this way. She was scaring me shitless, and still she seemed to know exactly what to do to get on my good side. The lady sat down on one of the wooden stools, straightening her dress as she did so. Her presence made me feel unsure if I should lay back down, but after a short contemplation I decided not to. She didn’t look like she was here on a doctor's visit, but rather to see me up close. She reached a long arm behind her head as she began to loosen her mask. I sat there in awe, taking in her beauty as she revealed her face to me. Her curly hair bounced as the mask came off, revealing the stern face of the woman who the icy eyes belonged to. I tried smiling at her, but she didn’t smile back. She just looked at me, inspecting me up and down like she could see something everybody else couldn’t. It felt like she could look into my skeleton, maybe even read my thoughts if she wanted to. I looked away, too intimidated to keep up the eye contact.

"What’s your name?" 

My name…. My name is…. Blank. I didn’t know. I dug through my brain, it had to be hidden in there somewhere. She wanted to know my name. She would suspect me for lying if I couldn’t come up with an answer. It had to be there somewhere, I could see everybody else in my life so clearly. I was named after somebody, that I was sure of. The name had letters, some of them vowels and there may be some consonants too. No numbers, I was pretty sure of that too. I tried to name off some people in my family, but no names came to mind. Their faces was smiling at me through faded photographs, my friends and family just barely out of reach but no names in sight. It felt like I had a gaping black hole inside of my head, that pulled all memories of people in my previous life into it. There was nothing. I was nothing.

“I don’t know.”


	3. Chapter 3

The small drops of sweat on my forehead turned into rivers, making my black hair stick to my skin. My cold hands turned into fists as they clutched onto the thin wool blanket covering my dirty hospital gown. I pulled the blanket closer, felt it tickle the skin on my legs as it moved. Her wide, icy blue eyes looked through me, reading me like an open book. What was there to read? Was she reading the story about when I got admitted to the hospital for a short stay just to check up on my iron levels after a few fainting spells, and instead they found a tumor the size of a golf ball fighting my brain for space? Maybe she was enjoying the story of me and my crush, and how I had tried to smoke to impress her. She was the new girl, her dad stationed at the military base at the edge of town. Mother probably saw how I would position myself by her locker, in the hope of her noticing me. I would lean casually with my hands in my pockets, sometimes even running my long fingers through my hair - more often than not getting them stuck in the curly mess. She would giggle sometimes, but I never knew if it was because I was making a fool of myself or if she liked me. I hope she never figured out that my real locker was down the hallway and to the left. 

"...You don’t know?" 

Her stern voice penetrated itself into my fantasy, making me come back to earth as my eyes met the ones made of ice. A cold shiver ran down my back, making me look down into my lap while shaking my head. I could feel her stare at me for a long time, her gaze made me feel like she held my head under cold water.

“I’m sorry...” I said, my voice cracking as I used it for the second time. It felt like I hadn’t used it in years, grinding the back of my throat like sandpaper. Looking up again, I saw that Mother hadn't moved, she didn’t even blink at my apology. I had never met someone so in control of her emotions, someone so cold and monotone as her. Her face was unreadable, reminding me of reading a language I would never understand. 

“Do you remember anything?” She asked, her voice in the same stern tone. 

“Not really...” I answered, knowing I was halfway lying. But if she could read my mind, she would know. Her expression was unchanged, there was no way for me to know if she knew. 

“Interesting.” she said, not sounding interested at all. 

The silence was deafening as she sat there, silently watching me. I didn't know what to do, but my imagination was quick to show me her slitting my throat with one of the sharp blades on the metal table. Maybe that would make her smile, the sadistic joy of not giving me a chance in death either. But then as easily as she sat down next to me, she got up. Her long, beige dress made a swooshing sound as it dragged behind her as she left the equally beige tent. Alone again. I laid down back down, feeling the hardy knots of my hospital gown dig into my skin on the hard mattress. My eyelids almost felt as heavy as when the anesthetic flowed into my veins and wrapped itself around my body. In the daze between awake and unconscious, I started thinking about my family again. I wondered how they were doing back in life where I left them. I could see them clearly, my mother on her knees in the waiting room while my brother stroked her back to comfort her. Hopefully he had made it there in time. The weather had been bad, and our small town wasn’t built for floods. I wondered how long it took my dad to get there. Maybe he didn’t show up this time either, and ended up driving home to his big armchair instead. The armchair had always been his safe haven, hidden behind a big newspaper as he smoked cigarettes in the living room. I remember crawling up on his lap as a kid, hiding behind the wall of important headlines and gray pictures of smiling people as my mom looked for me. My dad wouldn’t say a word to her as he ruffled the pages, turning them carefully as to not to wake me up as I fell asleep with my head buried in his long beard. He smelled like a heavy mix of cedar wood, tobacco and minty mouthwash. I pulled the thin blanket over my shoulder as I felt the warm stream of tears run down my face for the first time in years.

My eyes opened abruptly as I felt something heavy, but soft hit my foot. How long had I been asleep? I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe my face free of snot and dried up tears. I could hear footsteps in the tent, not belonging to anybody I immediately recognized. The nurse had fast, almost nervous footsteps while Mother didn’t make a sound. Maybe she floated in? I couldn’t remember seeing her legs under her long, victorian dress. I found myself in a place where I wanted to know who was with me, but also dreading finding out. Everything felt so strange here, I was a foreigner in a land I didn’t even know about. I was not in a headspace for another interaction like that, the thought of it made me want to belch. My body screamed for more sleep, gripping tightly to the hope of us to wake up from this horrible nightmare. But I had to persevere, laying here wasn’t making the situation better. If I sat up, I would at least have some control of the situation. If they were planning to bleed me out, I wanted to look them in the eye as they did so. I took a deep breath, before I hoisted myself up again. My arms were shaking underneath me as my perspective changed again, showing me a strange man with his back turned towards me. I tried collecting myself, wanting to seem presentable. I quickly gave up, knowing deep inside of myself that there was nothing that could make the situation better. The sweat made my gown stick to my thin frame, my hair had gotten stringy from the vomiting and the crying. It felt like it was covered with a thick layer of grease and slime as I pulled my fingers through it, soot and a leaf falling out of it. I gave up on trying, and redirected my focus on the heavy pile by the end of the bed. It reminded me of a marching band uniform, but this one was black and embellished with silver ribbons and metal buttons engraved with small crosses. It was surprisingly heavy to the touch. 

"We wouldn’t make you wear that robe for the rest of your life."

The man turned around, making my heart skip a beat. He looked like a ghost, his platinum hair making him look like he was in an old black and white movie. My shoulders tightened as I expected him to be as cold as Mother had been, but to my surprise was he... smiling? His thin lips showed his teeth as he looked over at me, one eyebrow raised almost like in surprise. He too looked me up and down, but there was no sign of him being able to read my thoughts. I felt myself relaxing a bit more as our eyes met, but the moment didn’t last long. They met but only for a split second before he quickly looked away, his eyes big as he stared into the yellow canvas wall. 


	4. Chapter 4

I let my fingers stroke the soft, sturdy uniform fabric- before moving my hand to feel the knots digging into my skin as they held up my dirty robe. The twill ribbons that once were clean but sturdy felt hard as rocks underneath my fingers, fighting back as I started pulling on them to no avail. The cold ground I woke up on had fused them together, effectively transforming them to stone. I could feel my spine under my fingers, pointing up against my bruised skin. I hadn’t always looked this way, and I dreaded the feeling of it. I missed my old body, the one that had carried me through so much before I died. I was once on the high school volleyball team, we had even gone to regionals a few times. I closed my eyes for a moment to imagine the warm sun shining down on us as we practiced outside in the white sand. The team was the only place where I was comfortable being a head taller than my peers. They came to visit me at the hospital after I got diagnosed, carrying signs with pictures of us from the yearbook and cards filled with wishes for a quick recovery. I missed them, but I doubted they missed me. I wasn’t particularly good at volleyball, I just had an advantage by being the tallest on the team.

My dad always asked why I picked volleyball over basketball. He was a big NBA fan, it was one of the only things he would fold and put away his newspaper for. But I never felt comfortable on the basketball court, with all the running and strategy and how competitive it got. There was nothing to blame my clumsiness on at the basketball court, but the volleyball field was filled with hot sand. The sand that let me pretend to have dug my foot into when I fell down, and it would catch me so softly. 

“Do you want some help?” 

The voice of the strange man broke itself into my daydream, popping it like a bubble. No more hot sand or the faces of my teammates surrounding me while trying to make me feel better. Just the hard bed, and the yellowish canvas protecting us from whatever was out there. I considered my options for a second while I looked down on the dirty gown I died in. I could either have this stranger help me break loose of the knots and reveal the back of my body to him. Or I could pull it over my head, exposing absolutely everything. The last option was mortifying, but it would let me escape the possibility of being touched. I had never particularly liked the feeling of hands touching my body other than my own, and not even them that much. It reminded me too much of the gloved fingers of the nurses as they prodded my body without a single concern for my feelings. They were just doing their job, cleaning me up and getting me ready but it made me feel so inhuman. I looked over at the man again, he didn’t seem like he had any plans on leaving the tent anytime soon. He blinded me for a second, as he fidgeted with one of the sharp scalpels on the metal table with his left hand. His voice was full of concern as he apologized, still awaiting my answer. I decided on nodding, and he quickly moved over. He smelled like that kind of bonfire where you gather with friends to make s’mores. 

“The knots are all stuck...” I mumbled, my chapped lips splitting more and more for every vowel I spoke. I could feel the iron taste seep into my mouth as the man started pulling on the knots with his warm hands. I flinched a bit, but kept my back straight. This would all pass soon. 

“I think we need to cut you out…” He whispered as he gave up, pulling away from me. I exhaled, realizing that I had held my breath ever since his hands first grazed my skin. I looked over at him, as he inspected the tools on the metal table once more. He browsed through the sharp knives, scissors and curettes, holding them up to the light as he looked at them. I wondered if he had been a doctor in his previous life, watching his fascination with the polished instruments as he turned them in his hands. I considered briefly if it was rude to ask someone here what their cause of death was. Maybe it was like prison, or at least what I thought prisons were like: where you weren’t supposed to ask them in fear of disrespecting them. I wouldn’t stand a fair chance at taking him on if he decided to attack me, not with all the sharp tools he had at his disposal.

“This will do.” He said as I looked away, listening to his fast footsteps as he hurried back over to me. I wondered if he noticed that I had been watching him. His warm hands touched the back of my neck as he softly pulled the twill away from my spine. The cold metal met my skin as he slid the small scalpel underneath. I couldn’t help but wince.

“Sorry...” He whispered as he pulled the knife swiftly towards himself, tugging it through the hardy string. I could feel the robe loosening, not noticing before now how tight it had been. His hands moved lower, cutting me loose from the last memory of my previous life. The robe and the stained socks were the only thing left of who I used to be. I caught myself thinking about what happened to other dead people, and their belongings. If I was a victim of an accident, would I keep the clothes I had decided to wear that day? I imagined workers having to stay in their grease stained aprons and dirty work uniforms, skydivers with their helmets and windproof overalls: maybe they even get to keep their parachute? That would be so unfair to the fast food worker. My thoughts escaped to my grandmother again, how many years was it since she died now? Dad was only 8 years old when they got the horrible news, way too young to lose his mother. I did the math quickly in my head, it was almost 60 years ago now. Would she be in the clothes she wore in the 40’s? I had only seen a few pictures of her, but I could imagine her strolling around in the underworld dressed in her Sunday best. She was a wonderful contrast to the gray surroundings. 

“I’m Gerard, by the way...”

Gerard broke the silence for the third time as he ripped open the last of the knots tying me into the dirty fabric. I looked over my shoulder to look at him, clutching at my robe for it not to fall forwards. He had dark, almost black eyes, like the anaesthetic nurse who had looked down on me not so long ago. I think I caught him off guard, as he took a step back when his black met my green eyes. He quickly looked away and started moving to the other side of the tent. 

“You should get dressed…” he said, now standing over by the table again before quickly ripping open the canvas entrance, leaving me to myself again.


	5. Chapter 5

The black uniform was soft to the touch as I pulled on the thick wool pants. They were straight legged, and as expected: a bit too short. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to, they never made clothes in my size back where I came from. After a sudden growth spurt as a teen, I started to purposely cuff my pants at the ankles. I tried to play it off like I wanted to show off my socks and sneakers combo. But the reality was that nothing would ever hit me correctly without being way too loose at the waist. Underneath the pile of black was a white button up to go underneath the heavy jacket. I wondered how long I had to wear these clothes, or if there was a way to get more. I was never a big fan of going shopping, but I did find enjoyment in putting my own flare on my clothes; even if it wasn’t on purpose. They didn’t give me socks to go into the black military boots that stood by the end of the bed. I glanced down on my feet to look at my last true possessions. They were both covered in the grey ash I had waded through to get here, the left one had a bit of yellow belch staining the inner lining. I sat down on the bed to lace up the boots, tightening them as hard as I could around my ankles to the point of cutting off circulation. I didn’t want anybody to see them, there was no joy in showing them off here. 

The tent flap was pulled aside again, and the now familiar face of Gerard peaked back in. His platinum blonde hair and stark black uniform greatly contrasted the yellow tarp compared to Mother, who almost faded into it. He nodded his head towards the outside, having me follow him back into the world. The sun was hidden behind a heavy layer of clouds, but she still managed to blind me as I walked out. I used my arm to shield myself from her, letting myself get used to it before daring to blink. Looking around, I saw what reminded me of the parade I had seen coming towards me. But the decorated wagon wasn't alone, as it now was surrounded by yellow and brow tents- all standing in the clearing I had passed out in. The heavy feeling of being a burden hit me like a brick as I looked around at all the people who had to pause their journey for a helpless piece of shit like me. A tiny voice in my head murmured wishes of not being found, that I should be wandering around in the ash covered battlefield alone like I was supposed to. I couldn’t be in the way of others if I was by myself and the voice convinced me that I wanted it to be that way. Death was supposed to be my escape from being a heavy burden for the people around me, why did I have to become one here as well? It felt so unfair, especially to them who never asked for this. They didn’t even know me, and I had dragged them into this. 

“Ah, I see you have gotten dressed.”

I was too deep in my own thoughts to notice that Mother had walked up to us. The sight of her startled me, making my heart skip a beat in a slight panic. She was wearing her mask again, her blue eyes peering through the dark glass hiding them. Mother was the only person here not wearing black: dressed from head to toe in beige, contrasting the hundreds of people sitting around us in the camp. She must've been the leader, the contrast was too stark for it to be someone else. There was something different with her, something I couldn't put my finger on. Even if she made shivers run down deep into my core, she fascinated me. She was unreadable, and even when we were around similar height- it felt like she towered over me. 

“Yes, thank you for the unifo...”

“Have we decided on a name yet?” 

Mother’s strict, authoritarian voice interrupted me, clearly not interested in the flattery. I looked to her, then over at Gerard, and then back to Mother. I didn’t come prepared. 

“Oh yeah, Mother told me about that. You don’t remember it, do you?” 

Gerard’s voice was full of wonder as he looked over at me, measuring me up and down. His gaze made me think of someone looking at an old friend, but like the memory had faded as the years passed. I was completely sure I had never seen him before. 

“No…” I mumbled as I looked down into the ground, desperately trying to disappear into it. 

“We’ll just have to name you then. What about Amnesia, that’s even kind of funny!” 

I looked up to see Gerard smile as he suggested the name. He seemed kind of proud of his own suggestion, but it almost made me gag. I wasn’t much of a fan of the feminine sound of it, but I was too scared to say something. It didn’t feel right starting to fight their suggestions on my first day. I could feel myself fumbling with my words, unable to get anything out. 

“We can shorten it to Am if that fits you better.” Mother retorted, her words making cold shivers run down my back. Had she read my thoughts, or could she just be really good at reading my face? I shyly ran my fingers through my hair, looking away again as warm blood rushed to my face. It really felt like she knew everything about me, without me saying a word to her. 

“You can address me as Mother War, or just Mother if that makes you feel more comfortable.” 

It didn’t. 

“I've talked with Gerard about showing you the camp, I'm sure he would love to look after you.” 

Her voice was so sterile, completely void of any emotion. She could smile as much as she wanted, but she could never be perceived as friendly. Her voice constantly made deep shivers crawl down my back, making the hair on my arms raise up. She scared me deeply. 

“Sure will!” Gerard said, patting me on the back like I was one of his friends. I had only felt this feeling when my dad wanted to show off that he was proud of me, and I could count how many times that was on one hand.

It felt like relief to finally be guided away from Mother War and the tent I had woken up in. I dared to look back one last time, maybe as a last chance to remember where I came from. Mother War was nowhere to be seen, it was like she had vanished in thin air. Had she even been there? The camp was set up in the middle of the road I fainted in, blocking any potential traffic from getting through. It made me wonder if there were more people using the road other than the parade, or if it was made both by and for them. In the middle were big wooden tables arranged in three long lines, surrounded in a circle made of big yellow tents. By the end of the long tables stood the Parade I had seen before passing out, red and black flowers decorating a big skull on the front. It was beautiful in a chilling way, like a haunted house on the end of a road. I was not about to go anywhere near it, but I could appreciate the beauty from afar. Gerard was pointing out the different locations, but my brain felt too foggy to take anything in. It all got mixed together as I looked around, it was all too much. 

“Hey!” 

My heart skipped a beat again as Gerard yelled out loudly at a strange man who looked up at us with his eyes hidden behind wire frame glasses. He stood there alone by one of the tents, leaning up against some black boxes. In his hand was a worn out book, only kept together by his steady grip and a few strands of thin string. The man smiled as he waved at us, straightening up in what looked like a military stance. I could see his dark eyes behind his glasses looking me up and down, similar to how Gerard had looked at me. Was I really that bad to look at? 

“... Who’s this?” He asked, his voice filled with wonder and skepticism as his eyes moved back over to Gerard. They shared a look, reading each other's faces. I was left to stand awkwardly next to them as no words were exchanged, looking away while pretending to be interested in something happening to the left. It felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there, like I was imposing on something important. The silence was broken by Gerard’s laugh, before giving me another pat on the back. My body didn’t expect it this time, and he managed to push me off of my balance. I stumbled over my own feet as I plummeted forwards, seconds away from bringing me back down to my knees. The warm feeling of my face flushing red overwhelmed me as I regained my footing, now around half a meter closer to the man. He was grinning as he looked over at me, his eyebrows raised behind his spectacles like he had expected me to fall. I tried to distort my face into a smile as he reached out a hand to greet me. 

“You probably know this, but I’m Gerard’s brother.” 

I took his hand, his firm grip felt cold as ice. Looking him up and down, I knew deep in my heart that I didn’t know this information and frankly, I wouldn’t have expect it either. He was almost a head taller than Gerard, him and I were about the same height. And unlike Gerard was his hair a softer shade of dark brown. I withdrew my hand without breaking eye contact, trying to figure out what era he came from. His well groomed hair and gray glasses didn’t fit in where I came from, he looked more like someone on the family mantle. I doubted if we had both been alive at the same time, but it was hard to tell. For all I knew had his silver wired frames come back into style while I was still at the hospital.

“Amnesia.” 

Gerard responded before I could even open my mouth, making his brother's raise his eyebrows before looking over at me again. It all felt like an elaborate joke that I wasn’t in on, like a TV-show host would jump out any moment to point out the cameras and scream that I had been punk’d. They both knew something I didn’t, keeping me in the dark while sharing secret messages in between themselves. I didn’t know what to say. 

“Oh, well that makes sense.” The brother said in a low voice, looking back at Gerard. 

“We’ll find out who you are soon enough, Am.” 

Gerard’s voice was filled with joy as he stroked me on the back, a lot more gentle this time. It felt so surreal, that they could smile like I didn’t just die a few hours ago. I had woken up a strange wasteland they presented as death, and now I’m shaking hands with men in uniform. It felt surreal.

I looked at the brothers as they continued to talk, unable to hear a single word of what they said as my mind was a million times louder. Their differences fascinated me. His brother, Mikey, was lanky and a bit awkward looking as he leaned back while Gerard stood tall with his back completely straight. I knew sons didn’t need to have identical hair colors to be brothers, but it was hard to see a family connection. Gerard laughed another short laugh at something Mikey said, reminding me that people could feel other things than pain down here too. People didn’t laugh around me where I was from. They just distorted their faces into sad smiles, wiping tears from their eyes as I made self deprecating jokes. My mom always stopped me when I started laughing, she was never in the mood to see the irony in brain tumors. It was nice hearing someone laugh again, even if it didn’t make the situation any better. I morbidly wondered who had died first of the brothers, in the back of my head I felt a slight hope on the oldest one passing first. They were both young looking, Gerard looking the oldest but only by a few years. I wondered how it would be to pass on, and meet a brother or a sister at the age when they died. I kind of figured that we were stuck at the age when we died, and took this into consideration as I looked from one brother to the other. Mikey couldn’t have been more than maybe two or three years older than me, while Gerard was at least five. We could probably have gone to college together, them being upperclassmen while I was a freshman. I was too sick to even apply for colleges, and watching my peers pack up and leave behind in my loser hometown had stung. 


	6. Chapter 6

The first day turned into a week as I watched time pass around me. It felt like I stood on the outside of my own life, unable to control my own body as I l looked at myself through what felt like a window. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t produce a single sound. It felt like my mouth was sewn shut as I sat there in the bed I was assigned, watching the parade members come and go around me. They were so busy with their own lives, almost as occupied as I was with hating mine. The days passed by so unbearably slow, dragging themselves along while I dragged myself further and further down. I watched myself move robotically from a to b while counting hours and minutes, longing for an excuse to get back to bed. It was my safe spot, the only place that was truly mine. It wasn't much, and neither the thin mattress or the woolen blanket were long enough for me. At night, the darkness was too thick to be able to see your own hands in front of you. The only lights shining through the darkness were the weak wasteland fires, their quiet crackles of burning wood singing comforting songs in the silence. I often laid awake at night, listening to the sounds of snapping twigs while surrounded by people sleeping peacefully. I wondered how they could just accept this fate, being stuck in a place where all the days looked so identical. The answer was always the same, entering my body like a deja vu. I had spent a year looking up at the fluorescent lamp, not even able to move around without having to wait hours for a nurse to prop me up against my walker. It had never been a problem then, even though the days were sterile and monotonous. Maybe it was the mixed feeling of freedom and entrapment? Here, I could run. Run as fast as I could. I could do whatever, but what did I do? Nothing. There was nothing for me to do here, and leaving the parade would be reckless. I had no way of surviving out there. 

Gerard would come and find me in the evenings, and drag me along to eat dinner with him. It seemed like he felt like he had some kind of responsibility for me, or maybe Mother War had made him my own private servant. No matter why he did it, it felt nice to have some kind of human interaction during the day. People usually let me be alone, I figured this was the custom for when there were new arrivals. It felt like a tradition they all agreed on in death, that you should be able to accept it by yourself first before they start trying to include you in their fucked up version of life. I wasn’t even close to anything like that, my body and mind fighting me no matter what I did. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to breathe. 

“Am, could you please try to eat something?” 

Gerard was pointing to my silver bowl with his fork, talking about the coal like potatoes. They weren’t actually burnt, they were actually quite undercooked. But all food here came in its worst, rotting form. He had tried this method for every meal we shared, pleading and begging me to actually eat something. Every time I would refuse, even when my stomach would keep me awake at night as it rumbled and growled. There felt like there was a physical roadblock in the back of my throat, shutting as soon as I led the fork to my mouth. 

“I’m trying…” I mumbled as I stared down at the inedible food, wishing for it to go away. 

“I’ve never met someone who doesn’t like potatoes.” He said as he ate another forkful, swallowing with ease. Gerard didn’t seem to mind the taste, he was probably used to it by now. I wondered how long he had been here, it had to be some time if they trusted him with caring for me. He didn't seem to mind my somber mood either, not seeming bothered by it at all. He waited patiently as I tried picking up my work, holding it weakly in my hand. I had to mentally prepare myself for what was to come, and he had no problem waiting. I wondered why he even bothered, if it was my job I would've given up a long time ago. I didn't deserve anyone like this, and he deserved so much better. 

“I like potatoes, I just don’t like pieces of coal pretending to be them...” 

Gerard laughed at my answer, his laughter a high pitched giggle more than anything else. It was charming, especially because he didn’t try to cover it up. It was a pure, joyous laughter. 

“Well, they’re still potatoes even if they’ve gotten dressed up.” 

He used his fork to push the plate towards me, pushing it until it gently balanced on the end of the wooden table. I pushed it back with the palm of my hand, not wanting to spill food all over myself and having to get my uniform washed. In a fleeting second, I let my self wonder if they had laundromats in death, or if being permanently stained was a part of the punishment of being here. With a deep sigh, I decided to try my best to prepare to eat. It felt horrible, but the feeling of letting Gerard down was almost worse. I picked my poison as the fork  stabbed the potato gently, struggling to scoop anything up before it crumbled on the plate. I ended up having to use my finger to push up the remnants, closing my eyes as the fork met my lips. Gerard had told me a blatant lie, and I shot a look over at him as I struggled to get it down. The food was completely dry, almost feeling like swallowing sand as I fought it. The lukewarm water served with the meal had never felt more appealing, even if it had black specks of cinder floating in it. 

“Sorry.” Gerard said, but his smile said otherwise. He seemed very pleased with himself, finally getting me to eat after six days in the camp. 

“I won’t forgive you.” I said, trying to sound serious but failing in my attempt. 

“You don’t seem like the type to hold grudges.” He said, his voice suggesting that he knew something I didn’t. I quickly went through my mind, trying to remember if we had talked about anything like this earlier. There was nothing that I could find about the subject, but my mind was also a tangled mess. 

“What makes you think that?” I wondered, struggling down another forkful. The crumbled pieces were filled with small, sharp pieces that scraped the inside of my throat as it went down. I felt myself eagerly chugging the warm water to relieve the pain that came served with every bite. 

“I can see it.” He answered, our eyes meeting again as I looked up. He took me by surprise, his eyes not avoiding mine like he had back in the tent when we first met. It felt like he had built up some kind of confidence since last time, maybe it was because he knew me a little better. I hadn’t opened up much to him, and intended for it to stay that way. As much as I wanted friends down here, I didn’t want to get too close. Even if death couldn’t part us at this point, it didn’t feel right to relieve all the horrible memories with people who probably had it way worse. 

“What else can you see?” I asked, still a little bit dumbfounded by Gerard’s newly found confidence. I broke away from his dark eyes, but not because I wanted to. It kinda felt like a staring competition he intended to win, and I was not in the mood to fight him. He intimidated me, but not enough to scare me. 

“Well, you seem kind.” He answered as he swallowed his last forkful, leaving a clean plate in front of him. The fork made a faint clink as it hit the silver, and soon after a man came to take it with him. 

“You could say that about anybody...” I noted, looking back up at him. It was hard to take a compliment, and this one didn’t seem particularly genuine. Calling someone sweet or kind was something you could say about anybody. But I didn’t see any motive for him to lie either. He was leaning forward now, supporting himself on his elbows with one hand running through his short hair. 

“Sure, but I know it's true.” He said, smiling a gentle smile at me as he straightened back up. His back cracked loudly as he did so, making mine tense up. I gritted my teeth as I looked back at the black lumps on the plate. Only two left, maybe six bites in total, but it felt like a million. 

“Thank you.” I said, quickly realizing how my voice didn’t seem convincing at all. I quickly filled my mouth with food in a desperate attempt to cover it up, not looking at him so I wouldn’t find out. 

“You are very welcome.” He said, his voice still in that gentle tone. 


	7. Chapter 7

At first I didn't notice it, but things eventually started to get better. It was hard to believe as all of my mind fought a losing battle to keep me down, not understanding that I time was helping me heal. The heavy darkness above my head started to lighten bit by bit as every day passed, even if the gray skies above us stayed completely still. Getting into the routine still seemed impossible, but I at least tried to get up when the rest of the camp did. Their cheerful voices slowly transformed from a horrible noise to a pleasant sound as I laid in bed with my eyes closed, listening in on their muffled conversations as they walked by me. Gerard had shown me the bed laid in at the end of my first day, located close to the tent opening. Every time someone went through was an opportunity for the breeze filled with ash to attack my lungs, the thick canvas trying hard to to give us from the fiery air out there. It would make me cough similarly to how my first cigarette had, the type of cough that felt like it could crack one of my ribs if I didn’t fight back. All the beds were separated by wooden bedside tables: some with stacks with books on them, and while others had candles and matches. I wondered where it all came from as I looked at my neighbors stuff. She was a blonde girl, maybe ten years older than than me by the look of it. Her table was filled with nicknacks you would commonly see on the bookshelf at your grandmothers: a glass bird being the center piece in her meticulously placed mess. It made my mind wander off to the parade and its members as they walked next to it. Maybe they walked by bookstores or maybe an antique store on their way to wherever? The thought made me chuckle a bit as I picked up the small bird, turning it in my hands. It was fragile, not something you would carry in your pockets in fear of it breaking. It would probably get crushed as you woke up on the cold ground, it felt like I would break it by putting it back. How could something so fragile get here? 

It made me think back to my arrival here, of how I was only left with my robe and socks. They had taken off my watch and my hospital wristband before surgery, accidentally making sure I wouldn’t take it with me. They were probably still laying on the metal table where they left it, the wristband had probably met its end in the trash. If I just had it, it would’ve been able to tell me so much. I missed my old name even if it wasn’t with me anymore. It was one I had picked out myself, with some guidance from my father. He was hesitant about letting me changing it, wanting me to keep the one he had picked out for me 22 years ago. But I was sure about it, the new one fitting me like a glove while the old one felt like a shoe three sizes too small. He was the first to greet me when my new ID arrived in the mail, a small tear in his eye as we left the old one behind. I could remember keeping it as a middle name just in case he would fight me on it, a gesture that had made it easier for him to accept. 

Gerard came looking for me as usual, smiling a surprised smile when he noticed that I was already up. He usually sat down on the end of my bed as he waited for me to slowly lace up my boots, not complaining a single time. He did this every morning as he came to check on me, sometimes accidentally sitting down on my feet.

“You look better today.” He noted, I could feel his eyes following me as he held the tent opening open for me as I leaned through it. 

“I think I look dead.” I responded, not in the mood for what felt like another fake compliment. Gerard always tried his hardest to cheer me up, but my mood was still very unpredictable. I couldn’t control it, no matter how much sleep I got.

“Don’t we all?” He asked as he caught up with me, his grin growing bigger. I only shrugged in response, looking over towards the tables. Most of the other members had finished their breakfast long ago, catching the last few moments of free time before going to their stations. They all had jobs here, all but me. Gerard would disappear when we finished too, leaving me to myself as the day dragged on. I wondered if I would get a job one day too, and in that case how long it would take before I got it. It still kind of felt like initiation week, most members were still avoiding my gaze as much as possible as we walked by. Sometimes one of them would smile at me, and I would have to distort my face into a grimace back in an attempt to return the favor. Gerard took the lead, having me eat next to Mikey as he sat down opposite us. Mikey was still reading his ragged book, but was much further along now than what he was when I first met him. 

“Good morning.” He said, not taking his eyes away from the page. I still hadn’t gotten used to how meticulous he looked, how his flawlessly combed hair laid perfectly still even when the wind tried to mess it up. His uniform looked perfectly pressed, like it was recently delivered from the dry cleaners. It didn't match his lanky posture, but it definitely suited his tone of voice. 

“Good morning.” I mumbled in response, letting Gerard handle the conversation as usual. My eyelids were constantly heavy from not getting enough sleep on the hard mattress. And even when I started to doze off, the nightmares would keep me awake: vague images haunting me. I couldn’t see who was there with me in my dreams, I could only make out a shadow of someone playing with me. The shadow demanded answers from me, holding me by the collar of my shirt as I choked on my words and heaved for air. I would wake up in a cold sweat, scared of the demon following me into real life too. I didn’t know what death was capable of, terrified of my sleep paralysis becoming real to punish me. 

“What are you reading?” I asked as the brothers went quiet, both of them focusing on their food. Mikey looked up from the moldy porridge, before closing his book to hand it to me. It was heavier than expected, made of faded purple leather with a golden inscription. Agatha Christie. I remembered having read some of her works in school, never ever fancying literature associated with writing essays. 

“I never got around to read it before I died, so I thought I would give it a try.” 

He laughed a short laugh as I gave him the book back, opening it up to the page he left on. It felt like a hint, but I was never particularly good at placing old literature to the year published. Ask me about movies instead, or the MTV TV-schedule. If he hinted at being old, I would never be able to guess without sounding horribly rude and I decided against it. Another question was burning in my mind anyway. 

“How do you get books here anyway?” I asked, gathering all the courage in my body to eat some of the porridge. I used the spoon to scratch away the moldy parts, but it quickly reunited with the spoonful I intended to eat. 

“Depends. Some have them with them, some get them later. Gerard will explain that to you when yours get here.” 

I looked over at Gerard with a confused look, only to see him turned away from me. I turned around with him to follow his gaze, seeing a man with curly hair waving him over.

“I think I need to get back to work. I’ll see you later Am. Mikey.” He said distractedly as he hurried away. I looked back at his brother who seemed unbothered by Gerard’s strange behavior. He was already deeply buried in his book, eating perfectly filled spoonfuls without looking. 

I didn’t see Gerard for the rest of the day, spending it wandering aimlessly around in camp. This was the first time I felt the need to move around, rather than getting straight back to bed. He didn’t show up for dinner either, indirectly making me lose my appetite in the process. I didn’t eat to impress him, but his company made the food a lot more tolerable. I used my fork to poke around in it as I looked around at the other parade members as they gathered around the long tables. The meat-like substance wiggled as I touched it, triggering my gag reflex as it made me push the plate away. It was a big relief that I didn’t know any of the faces surrounding me, not ever wanting to meet someone I knew down here. Meeting new people was alright even if it felt unfair that these were the surroundings leading us together, but meeting someone from my previous life would be unbearable. I didn’t even want to think about who would be the first if it ever happened. All the people I left behind felt immortal as they stood around my hospital bed, I was the only one destined to die ever. They would be where I left them forever, living on as I faded away into nothing. 


	8. Chapter 8

No matter how hard she tried was the sun never able to penetrate through the thick clouds above us. Looking up, it was barely possible to see her as she used all her might to slowly push the weak shadows from east to west. I admired her strength as the shadows gradually grew longer before me. She was never in a rush even though I wished for her to hurry up. The faster she went home and let the moon take on the night shift, the faster I would get to escape this horrible place. And if the moon just came around, I wouldn’t feel so alone. The moon brought fresher air and darkness that blinded my ability to see where I was, but also let me hide from it all. She did this in my previous life too, as she put my mother to sleep while I snuck out of my bedroom window. I would pick up my best friend, and we would drive around town while trying to avoid my dad’s police car. He never caught us, not that I knew of anyway. We would fantasize about one day taking left at my grandfather's shop and getting onto the highway: leaving our small time behind for good. Maybe we would change our names so they couldn’t find us, and move into a small studio apartment in the big city where we struggled to make rent. I would become a painter with a cult following while he became a famous indie artist. We would be partners in crime as we were pronounced dead by our families, thriving in the lives we created for ourselves. I was the only one of us that eventually would be pronounced dead, while he went on to have kids with his high school sweetheart. I begged him not to get with her when they started hooking up junior year, I was convinced she would tie him down in our town forever. I was right. In the wedding invitation, they wanted me to attend their ceremony at the botanical museum by the city square. They probably bought a house on the same street as her parents, him attending the local college one city over to become an IT consultant while she stayed home with their first born child. The thought made me want to vomit, the acid tickling the back of my throat as I broke free from my own daydream.

As I broke away from my thoughts, I found myself volunteering for the petite nurse who a week ago helped me back to life. Mother War finally approached me on my seventh day, giving the options of either cooking or nursing. She explained that those were the only real job openings, but prepping the parade was also an option if I didn’t feel confident doing the other tasks. She only gave me a few seconds to consider her offer, but it was enough for the crippling self doubt to wash over me like a tidal wave. It felt surreal that she confidently trusted me with food, decorations or the worst: knives and other people's lives. I guess the life one wasn’t as important here, as we were all just ghosts of our previous selves anyway.

“I think nursing will suit you nicely. That tent is understaffed, so there will be plenty to do. You’ll start today.” 

Mother had made the decision for me, I saw in her ice cold eyes that she was smiling with satisfaction. It was obvious that she had already made up her mind before asking, and that she only gave me the options to create a false sense of being in control. And as quickly as she showed up, she disappeared: leaving me with plenty of questions and that familiar, lingering feeling of her looking right into me. I had wondered if Gerard worked at the nursing post too, as he had been there when I arrived at the camp. I assumed he did, as he had been there when I arrived.

But Gerard wasn't to be seen as I pulled away the thin, canvas opening. There was only one person standing there, she got her back turned to me as she tended to one of her torture devices. The sight of her took my breath away, she was the second person I had seen in this life wearing something else than the usual black attire. The petite nurse introduced herself as Emily, her long nails digging into my skin as she shook my hand. Wearing a sky blue dress protected by a white apron with an embroidered red cross, I recognized her immediately. It felt surreal looking at someone who had only looked up at me from muddy black and white pictures in the outdated history book I had in high school. She had been, or at least used to be a WW1 nurse. I didn’t dare to ask, but I assumed that she probably died while tending to a patient- and in death Mother allowed her to wear her own uniform if she continued her service. Together with a clipboard, she gave me an apron matching her own. 

“To protect your uniform. You never know what comes in here.” 

And it wouldn’t be long before I needed it. The screams from the outside made my stomach turn, and shivers run down my back. It was my first day, I wasn't ready. But there was no time as a young man was already being carried in on a stretcher, heavy as a sack of potatoes even when his collar bones clearly pointed out of his emaciated skin. I had to use all my strength to help Emily drag the man onto the hard bed, covering us both in the warm crimson streaming out of his left shoulder. I could hear her voice from miles away, having to fight through the nausea as Emily yelled at me to get a linen rag from the shelf and put pressure on the open wound. Acting purely on instinct, I laid my whole body weight on top of him in hopes of stopping the bleeding. It got all over me at it seeped through the thin fabric rag and onto my hands. The man sounded like he was coughing up his insides, floating between consciousness as yellow stomach acid trickled down the side of his mouth. Emily's voice sounded like it came from under water as she instructed me to fetch her the needle and thread on the metal tray on the opposite side of the room. I couldn't fathom how calm she was as I struggled to keep my balance, having to push through to even be able to walk over. I left the rag laying on the wound as I did what she asked, giving her a needle that looked more like a fishing hook than anything else. It was such a contrast to the hazy mess of a reality I found myself in, hands and clothes all soaked in fresh blood. She had me cut the shirt the man died in with some rusty scissors, while she gently attempted to wipe up the fresh blood inching closer to her hand. I watched her sew neat black stitches into his chest, seemingly not affected at all. And as the situation calmed down, I dared to move the wet rag up to his face in an attempt to clean him of the stream of fluid leaving his nose and mouth. But I was only getting him dirtier in the process, and it made me give up. Black, greasy hair covered up most of his face, my intuition told me that he didn’t normally look like this. I wondered how long he had been out there in the burning wasteland, his sunken cheeks suggested weeks if not months. 

Emily had me clean him up while she inspected him closer. Picking up the clipboard I had thrown into the corner in panic, my instructions were now to identify him, and note down my discoveries for Mother to look over later. The first thing I noticed as I cleaned him up was the tattoos, covering him from neck to knee. He carried his wallet and keys in his front pockets, his outfit suggested that he had been walking either to or from work. His picture smiled up at me from his faded ID, the black hair casually pulled away from his eyes and his face plump as he grinned at the DMV worker. I wrote his name down on the form as I moved on to the next question. Age. According to the faded text, Frank was born in 1966. But looking at his face, I didn’t see a single sign of what I expected a 38 year old to look like. My first thought was that he carried a fake ID, maybe he used it to buy booze from the local liquor store ran by an elderly lady that couldn’t really see him from behind the register. I called Emily over to have a look at the card, but she just brushed it off as soon as she saw it.

“That just means that he had a harder time finding us than what you did.”

I could see the wasteland as the memories flashed in front of my eyes, having another taste of the miserable feeling of being alone without any purpose or direction. It made me slightly nauseous but Emily didn’t seem to notice. What a sad faith, having to spend any longer than what I had out there. 

“Some of them spend years out there. Others will just magically wake up tucked into a warm bed in camp. But we won’t reach our destination before everybody has been collected, so I don’t mind them spending some time out there.”

She continued speaking without waiting for me to catch up. Her comment felt so cold that I had to look over at her to see if she was joking. But I never got an answer, as her back was already turned her to me. She stood over by the glass bowl on the table, deeply invested in washing the blood off of her surgical tools. 

“So we have to sit around here and just wait for all evil people in history to show up?”

My voice was filled with skepticism as I asked, my eyebrows raised as I watched her. She placed the hook on the metal table, before looking over her shoulder to look back at me. It felt like she too could read my thoughts, as she could see me frantically trying to remember if I had seen any famous dictators at any point during my first week here. She started to laugh a low nasal laugh before looking away again. 

“Mother War is very specific about the people who get to walk by her parade. That’s why you need to continue doing your job and fill out that form instead of asking questions.”

Her even colder answer just made me think of a million more, but I was quickly interrupted by one proposed by the form asking me a question I didn’t know the answer to. 

“What’s an Unforgivable?”


	9. Chapter 9

The visible anger in her eyes was the only answer I left with that day. Emily abruptly cut my shift short as she snatched the clipboard out of my hands, loudly announcing that she could take it from here. The shift had only lasted for a few hours, I expected to stay for a lot longer than what she wanted. But she seemed like she had made up her mind as she escorted me to the tent opening with one hand on my back, murmuring that I could come back after breakfast tomorrow. I could feel her nails against my back as she gave me a gentle push out the door, almost making me lose my footing in the soft gravel. It was easy to understand that I had gone too far, asking questions that were completely out of line. I regretted it immensely as I walked back to my tent, falling backwards down on my bed as soon as I saw it. My shoulders popped as I stretched my arms over my head, getting a quick look at my stained hands. Frank’s blood was still on my hands, making me look like a cereal killer freshly done with their latest victim. There was no one here yet, everybody still keeping busy with their work. I snuck over to a nightstand further down in the tent, the one decorated with the rose painted pitcher and a matching bowl. The cold water stung my hands as I used it to wash off, watching the water turn red as it dripped down to the ash covered ground. It left a dark puddle by the owners bed, but it would probably soak right back up before they noticed. The way back up to my bed felt long as I took in the sights of all the beds lining the tent walls. There were 27 in total, mine being the one closest to the way out. There had to be another tent, the numbers were not matching up to the loud crowd gathered for mealtimes. Besides, I had never seen Emily in my tent. Neither Gerard or Mikey when I thought of it. We had to be at least 50 people here, growing steadily as victims came stumbling out of the woodworks. 

“So how was your first day?” 

The bonfire sparkled as Mikey invited me to join in on a game of cards that night. The gesture made me feel a bit better, it felt nice to get something else to think about. What happened earlier that day still sat fresh in my mind as I sat down next to him. I didn’t know the rules, opting out to watch instead. The ragged cards made up of different decks flew as members in turn threw theirs into the pile in the middle of the circle, making the ash flurry and dance as the winner won the round. 

“It was fine.” I mumbled, watching him add a chewed up clover six to the pile. 

“You’re working for Emily, right?” He continued, pulling in the pile as a member threw his whole hand into the circle in frustration. The other member laughed, patting him on the back as to calm the sore loser down. 

“Yeah.” I answered shortly, not knowing how to describe her. She was such a strange character, switching between hot and cold within seconds. I didn’t know what to think of her yet. Her anger flashed in front of my eyes for a second, making the hair on my arms stand up.

“That’s pretty impressive." He said. I didn't know if I agreed to his statement, only shrugging in response. My work today had been anything but impressive, only barely being able to stand up as a mans life depended on it. I had been so weak, only working in a state of panic. And then I had messed it all up, if I hadn't asked the stupid question- I could probably have gotten out unnoticed. 

"If I’m not mistaken, I think she’s been working alone ever since she arrived.” 

My heart skipped a beat as he continued to talk. The shine from the bonfire reflected in his wire frame glasses, hiding his eyes as his diamond jack lost him the round. It was hard to read him when he didn’t look directly at me, and even harder when the darkness enveloped us. A new hand was handed out as the winner basked in his glory. I refused the hand a second time by shaking my head shortly. The game master just shrugged before starting another game. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling thoroughly confused. Mother War had mentioned the tent being understaffed, but I thought that meant that they only had a few workers. It felt crazy if what he said was true, that understaffed actually meant that there was only one person working there in total.

“Yeah, she’s one of the first to join the parade if I remember correctly.” 

His answer was so nonchalant, not seeming to take my reaction into consideration. Maybe he didn’t notice. 

“... So I’m the only one helping her?” I asked, my mind racing a million miles an hour. The other jobs Mother War had suggested were normal jobs, tasks most of the other parade members worked with. Why didn’t she specifically pick me for a job no one had ever done before? Her decision made me question everything, a sinking feeling of anxiety starting to form deep in my stomach. There would be no one to tell me what would happen in Emily’s apprenticeship, but there were probably many longing for the opportunity. I felt like I was robbing someone of their dream, being completely unqualified to do what was being asked of me. 

“Yes, but if you just watch out for her temper, I know you’ll be fine.” 

Mikey smiled as he looked over at me again. The smile was a charming one, but nothing like the joyous one his brother sported. It felt like he held back, like there was something he knew that he was not allowed to tell me. 

“I wish you could've told me that yesterday.” I admitted, looking away to rest my eyes on the sparkling fire. I could almost feel the below freezing temperature of his cold hand as he patted me on the back. The touch made my shoulders tense up. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t too bad.” He said as he pointed his attention back to the game, being a good sport as the sore loser let out a loud shout of victory. 

“I just need to get handed a manual of what I’m allowed to ask I guess...” I murmured, pulling my knees up to my chest as I watched the cards being thrown. There was no logic to the game as I understand it, only a matter of being fast enough. 

“I’m sorry if there’s something we haven’t told you...” Mikey apologized, looking back over at me. I could see the genuine concern in his eyes as he looked at me, but I shrugged it off.

“What have you done this time?” 

Gerard almost fell down next to me, his question not directed at me but at his brother. He smelled like a mix of lavender and vanilla as he sat down next to us, bringing with him the refreshing feeling of smelling something else than cinder, blood and the sterile hospital room. I could almost forget where I was in the daze the smell put me in, bringing me back home to a time where I could lay down in the fields of fresh lavender by the local forest. 

“It's not about me." Mikey answered, looking at his brother from the top of his silver framed glasses. There was something playful in the look, like Gerard awoke something within him at his arrival. 

"Am is getting on Emily’s nerves.” Mikey continued, pulling in the winners' loot. They were almost out of cards now, Mikey and the sore loser sitting with big hands of cards at this point. 

“Why are you hanging out with Emily? Is the scar not healing well?”

Gerard's concern seeped through in his voice as he looking past my eyes and up at my eyebrow. The small wound the nurse had put neat stitches into before I woke up was almost covered by my black, greasy fringe. I tried looking up in the same direction, only seeing the bridge of my eyebrows. 

“No, I’ve started working for her...” 

Gerard looked like he choked on something invisible, his cheeks impossibly getting paler than he already was. He had to hit himself on the chest, coughing before he looked back at me. 

“... You work for Emily?!” 

I was unsure if I was willing to have this conversation once more, the memory of her angry eyes burnt onto my retina. I saw her every time I blinked, making me want to keep my eyes open for as long as possible. His voice sounded utterly confused, and I supposed there was a good reason for that. 

“It wasn’t like I asked for it...” I mentioned, letting the dissatisfaction show through in my voice. I didn’t want this to become a big thing that would define me here, I didn’t deserve the special treatment. I wanted to be like everybody else, maybe even less than them. Staying in the weird state of having everybody leave me as they had more important things to do every day had been a blessing in disguise. I could hear Mikey letting out a laugh, not knowing if it was because he lost the final round, or if he was laughing at the expression on his brother's face. Gerard looked like his mind was racing similarly to mine, his gaze a bit empty as he looked out into the darkness. 

“Gerard knows Emily.” Mikey said as he gave me a friendly bump in the side with his elbow. I saw Gerard roll his eyes as he looked back over at us. 

“We all do.” He retorted, his voice sharper than usual. It took me by surprise. 

“You could probably teach Am about her ways then.” Mikey said with a laugh as he joined the last game of cards for the night. 


	10. Chapter 10

For the first time since I got here, I wanted to stay awake. The nightmares were horrible, but knowing that I had to go back to Emily in the morning almost made me welcome them. I would rather stay in the nightmares filled with unknown faces, screaming at me for not knowing who I am than have someone turn on me in rage while awake. I could feel a cry coming on as I inhaled, making my breathing choppy as I tried to pull the stinging air down into my lungs. I hadn’t felt this dread since I was admitted to the hospital, knowing that I wouldn’t go back to school for a long while. Memories of many sleepless nights flashed in front of my eyes, seeing the hospital ceiling so clearly in my mind. It was made up of white tiles, 33 in total as one was missing on the second row by the window. When I arrived, I couldn’t help but sleep with my back turned to the black hole- scared of something creeping out to look at me. But as the diagnosis started to sink in, I became more and more indifferent to the demon possibly lurking above me. In my deepest loneliness, I would’ve invited him down to sit with me. 

I didn’t remember falling asleep, it felt more like I had skipped a few hours into the future. The faint light of sunshine peeking through the clouds hit me in the face every time a parade member lifted up the heavy tent flap, making me blink as it blinded me. This was the first time I had woken up at a normal time, still hearing the sounds of people sleeping around me. I took the chance to get dressed, staying covered in bed as I did so. No one here wanted or needed to see my scraggly body. 

The best part about Gerard’s white hair was that he was so easy to spot in a crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb between the other members. I made my way over, surprising him with my presence. 

“You’re up early..?” He noted with his mouth filled with the horrible, dark bread usually served with breakfast. 

“Couldn’t sleep...” I said as I sat down opposite him. He raised his eyebrow as our eyes met, staring for a moment longer than I was comfortable with. I ended up having to look away, deciding to stare down on my plate instead. My reflection in the silver plate looked back up at me, hidden behind the gray piece of bread. 

“Let me guess, it’s because of Emily right?” 

Just hearing her name made me flinch, making me feel even worse. This response was reserved for someone who had hurt me, and Emily had definitely not done anything of the sort. If anything was it all my fault, overthinking the end of my shift. I bit my dry lip, a flake coming off as I did so. It rested on my tongue for a bit before I took it out with my fingers, holding my breath as I checked them for blood. There wasn’t any.

“I think I asked too many questions yesterday...” I said as I looked back over at him.

He was still looking at me, chewing slowly as the bread crumbled in his mouth.

“What did you ask about?” He wondered, his eyes filled with what I read as genuine concern. I shrugged as I took my first bite, my predictions correct. It immediately turned into sand as I bit into it, feeling like swallowing powdered glass. 

“Do you promise not to get hurt too?” I asked him as I finally got the bread down, deciding on not eating any more of it. It would put me in a bad mood not to eat, but the agony of this meal was not worth the brief feeling of fullness. 

“Of course!” He answered, smiling as he did so. His smile made my pulse lower, not feeling so anxious anymore. I took a deep breath before asking him. 

“What’s an Unforgivable?” I asked. His eyes went wide the second the question left my lips, rebuilding the anxiety he had relieved me from only moments ago. I could feel my heartbeat in the back of my throat as his eyes looked away for the first time this morning. He briefly shook his head as he leaned forward, leaning his chin into his hand as he thought about it. 

“I didn’t know it was a real thing…” He confided in me, still looking away. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling even more confused. Why would Emily get angry over something Gerard didn’t even believe in? 

“There’s always these rumors going around, but I’ve never heard someone actually having proof of any of them.” He mumbled into his hand, making his voice hard to hear. 

It took a while before I got Gerard spoke again, not really listening as I asked questions he didn’t seem to have answers to. His gaze was empty as he looked away, never looking at anything particular. 

“Do you think you could get more information from Emily?”

His question came suddenly, taking me by surprise as I tried to have a drink of the warm water served with breakfast. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, staring over at him. What he asked of me was completely opposite of what I was planning to do. I wanted to go underneath the radar, not asking a single question as I did my job to the best of my abilities. She wasn’t even supposed to see me during my shift as I mimicked a ghost roaming around in the tent, never in the way of her important work. 

“She never told me anything, maybe she’ll let you in on whatever she’s doing...” 

Gerard’s voice had an underlying mischief to it now, he was almost whispering as he pitched his idea to me. I had to lean forwards, my jacket almost hitting my plate as I tried to listen to his plan. The two voices inside my head, fighting for power almost drowned out his voice as they screamed about the idea. The angel in me wanted nothing to do with it, wanting us just to be good as we did the work Mother War trusted us with. But the little devil was louder, fueled by my sometimes uncontrollable curiosity. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” I said, not completely sure what that would be. 


	11. Chapter 11

Gerard’s request replayed over and over again in the back of my mind as I made my way over to the hospital tent. I dreaded showing up as I dragged my feet in the soft gravel, slowing myself down on purpose. The black boots made of black leather were becoming gray from the bad treatment. I could hear his voice as the task he assigned to me started to get under my skin. He didn’t seem to notice the gaze Emily shared with Mother War: those blue eyes that just looked right through you as they read your thoughts. What if Emily knew? As I pulled the canvas aside, the thought hit me. Why was it so interesting what Emily had to say anyway? What was he doing with this information, and why couldn’t he just get it himself? Mikey had mentioned that Gerard knew her, why did I have to become his personal spy if he could just ask? 

It didn't seem like Emily knew my intentions as our eyes met upon my arrival. She was standing not far from the entrance, walking to close it as I walked in. I caught the scent of her as she walked by, the smell of mint stinging my nostrils. The victim I had tried to identify the previous day, Frank, was still laying on the hard hospital bed: now covered with a gray woolen identical to mine. His gentle snores revealed that he was sleeping, still recovering from the wound Emily had stitched up on his chest. He looked even worse today, hollow cheeks revealing his cheekbones under the sickly looking bluish tinted skin.

“Am?”

Her voice popped the silence like a bubble, I didn’t even notice how eerily quiet it had been before she spoke. You couldn’t hear the outside from in here, except if you sat right outside of the thick canvas. Hearing her say my name made me flinch, even if her tone was a lot softer than what it had been yesterday. I turned around to look at her, feeling that I was in no place to keep eye contact. My gaze ended up resting on her left shoulder as she spoke.

“... I need to excuse myself for yesterday's… For yesterday’s outburst.” 

I felt myself heaving for breath, not realizing that I had been holding it ever since she said my name. My eyes followed her as she walked over to Frank, her eyes keeping the almost eye contact we had going on. I watched her long nails as they gently ran through his black, greasy hair- stroking it away from his face. I didn’t expect anything like this from her, not after the brothers confirmed my impression of her to the point of keeping me awake at night. We both watched Frank for a while, letting the silence settle around us again. He would interrupt every once in a while with a weak cough. She looked up at the same time as I did, our eyes meeting for a second before making me look away again. I tried smiling at her to show her that I accepted her apology. 

“I shouldn’t have asked…” I said, but she shook her head before she interrupted me. 

“You’re entitled to the answer Am. You work here now, it’s my fault for being so used to keeping this to myself..!” 

Her hands had turned into fists as she spoke, her knuckles whitening as she dug her nails into her palms. This outburst took me by surprise, making the short hairs in my neck raise up. I didn’t know how to respond, nothing could have me prepare for this. It felt like she had lost control again, but this time it was herself she was furious at. I almost expected her to shun herself from the tent, but fortunately she stood her ground as her white heels dug down into the ash covering the floor. 

And like nothing had happened, she put me to work. I stood by her as she sat down on one of the wooden chairs, looking over her shoulder. Her thin fingers were hard at work, her movements more like someone playing the piano rather than someone performing surgery. Every once in a while she had me help, first by bringing her tools and then having me use them. It felt extremely awkward to tend to Frank for practice. Emily worked silently, only occasionally instructing me if she saw me do something wrong. The clipboard was sat on the table next to the tools, the box for “Unforgivable” staring blankly up at me. I looked over at it as she had me wash his hair in the cold water she usually used to wash her hands, some of his blood staining the white paper with the cursive handwriting. Looking back, I spotted my own reflection looking back up at me in the water, still stained a yellowish red from being used the previous day. I looked horrible. 

No more came out of the session, but it was more than enough for me. I didn’t want to ask more questions, especially not about what had made her so upset the previous day. I felt her hand on my shoulder as she showed me the way out, squeezing it for a moment before letting me go out in the evening air. I looked back over my shoulder as I left the tent, watching her as she closed the flap behind me. I wondered what she did in there all by herself when I left. Did she sleep in there? I let my thoughts wander as I made my way back to the long tables. They were the hot spot of the camp, even outside of mealtimes. There was always something going on over there, they sounded like laughter as I moved closer. The parade on the other side of the camp was a whole other story. It seemed like everyone kept a 10 feet radius away from it, no matter what. I had never seen anyone get close to it, it seemed like they even avoided looking at it. It reminded me of something occult, something magical that I wasn’t supposed to know about. They feared it, and probably for a good reason. By the color of the clouds above, was it not time for dinner just yet. But I could keep a seat warm, there wasn’t anything else to do around here anyway. 

“Let me guess, you got thrown out again?” 

Mikey was the first one to show up for dinner, sitting down next to me like he always did. He had this cold aura to him, making my left side freeze even as he smiled widely. I shook my head, leaning a bit back as the person handing out the food placed the silver plates in front of us. It felt a bit like being at a restaurant, except for the lack of menus or tasty looking food. The soup was bubbling in the deep dish, with something looking like small fish bones swimming in it. It didn’t look appetizing at all. 

“No, I just finished early.” I answered, trying to seem confident. It was an act easily seen through though, I knew I was a bad actor. 

“Color me impressed.” Mikey responded, looking over at me as he led his first spoonful up to his mouth. He had no problem getting it down, but he had probably also been dead long enough to forget what normal food tasted like. 

I looked around for a bit before looking back at Mikey. I wanted to ask him so badly before Gerard came over, about what Gerard wanted from me. But as I opened my mouth, I caught myself thinking about it. If there was bad blood, it wouldn’t be very smart to ask the person closest to him. I didn’t know if I could trust him, even if there was no reason not to. 


	12. Chapter 12

I had never been awake this early before. As I stepped out of the tent that morning, I felt the gravel crunch beneath my boot as I broke through the thin layer of ice that the moon brought with her. The sun would melt it back up long before I usually awoke, but today I couldn't stay in bed any longer. It was all too much, and the bed seemed like it played my thoughts back to me in stereo. There was no way to escape them by laying there, and therefore- the only way was to leave. There were no people out yet, the long tables eerily empty as they shined in the morning frost. I headed to the only other place I knew, the ragged hospital tent. The tent felt weirdly empty, even with Frank’s lifeless body functioned as a grotesque centerpiece. He laid there breathing slowly, his chest rising and lowering under the thin blanket. Emily wasn't anywhere to be seen, making it extra weird to be there. It felt like being in a forbidden area, somewhere closed off to the general public. It was a weirdly intimate feeling, like I was pushing a limit I was not supposed to. But there I was, alone with the tools, the medicine and the stained bed with someone closely resembling a corpse. I decided to sit down next to him, staring out in the air at nothing. Gerard's request still played in the back of my mind. He didn't show up the night prior, and I never dared asking his brother about his intentions. 

Emily let out a loud, startled noise as she entered the tent maybe an hour later. Her hand went right to her chest as she stared at me with wide eyes. She had probably gotten the message that I was the opposite of an early bird, and now she looked like she had seen a ghost. I guess she kinda had.

"Am!" She sobbed, heaving for air. 

"I'm sorry!" I yelled back, quickly getting to my feet. She put her black coat down on the shelf as she shot me a deadly look, needing a moment to get the air back before she spoke. 

"Why are you here so early?" She demanded to know. I wasn't able to lie to her, she had too much authority over me. 

"I couldn't sleep. Nightmares..." I whispered, looking away from her deadly stare. It was not as deadly as Mother War's ice blue eyes, but Emily's ocean colored ones were dangerously similar. They made me shiver, letting me feel how warm the morning air was compared to them. I think Emily understood how bad I was feeling as I stood there like a dog with its tail behind its legs. She let out a loud sigh as she turned around to hand me a fresh apron and the checklist, both sparkly clean. It felt strange seeing clean things in this world, it almost confused me as I got more and more used to everything always being covered by a thin layer of ash. The paper on the board was different today, the cursive handwriting that I assumed belonged to Mother was switched out for something far less intricate. Emily’s handwriting wasn’t ugly by any standards, but Mother’s felt more like the letters on the computer: perfectly calculated and repeated as no hand could ever do. The paper shined up at me as I read it, telling me about the organization Emily expected to have finished by the end of the day. My knees ached as I crouched down to sort through her medicine shelf; feeling her cold hand on my shoulder, and her eyes following my movements like a hawk following her target. 

“I think we should dispose of that one...” 

She felt her nails graze my skin as she greedily grabbed the bottle out of my hand, turning it over to read on the label. All the writing was smudged and faded, the years of living on a shelf showing in the yellow tinted glass. There was no way in hell I would be able to read them, but I was glad she did. 

“What do you use these for anyway?” I asked her, my head halfway inside of the wooden shelf. The layer of dust was thicker than the usual layer of ash, tickling my nose as I struggled not to sneeze. My question was in the realm of those that kept me up at night, similar to the aching to know where we were going. How close to life was this place to where we came from, what rules did we still abide by? Did people still get sick with the common flu, and could they die from it without proper treatment? 

“You never know when you’ll need them.” 

I pulled my head out of the shelf to look at her, almost tearing down two bottles standing by the edge with me on the way out. The answer was so irritatingly vague, like all answers I got here. Was it so hard to just tell me the truth of what you would use a thousand year old black potion for? I caught the bottle inches before they smashed down on the ground, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. She was already looking at me, her never blinking blue eyes inspecting me. She could read the irritation in my face, I could see it. I instantly regretted everything. 

“What do you think I would use them for?”

Her voice was stern as she asked the question, her eyes glaring down on me. I didn’t expect the hostility, putting my hands up in a sign of peace. There were no way I could be further away from previous plan of going under the radar, not when my mouth asked stupid questions before I got time to think. 

“I’m sorry.” I said, feeling myself avoiding her stare. 

“No, I’m sorry. I need to get used to the questions.” She admitted, her voice sounding defeated as she put the potion bottle on the metal table. Her nails were digging into my shoulder, I didn’t even notice how tight her grip had gotten before she let go of me. I felt a surge of guilt as I watched her walk to the other side of the tent, not wanting her to feel bad. Emily wasn’t a horrible person, she just wasn’t used to me. We needed to get to know each other, but the days felt like two steps forward and one step back. No matter how she started to open up to me, something would happen that would ruin the moment for us. And every night as I left, I took with me the heavy feeling of disappointing her. I couldn’t explain why, I just never felt good enough no matter what I did for her or what she said to me. 

The air was warm when I voiced my concerns about Emily to the brothers that evening. They listened as they ate the inedible excuse for food, not bothering with trying to make me eat. I had already pushed it away, only finishing the silver mug of muddy water. 

“I don’t think you should be thinking too much about her.” 

Mikey voiced his own concern as he looked at me, his eyes barely visible behind his thick glasses. He had put down his book face down, paying full attention. Gerard on the other hand, seemed distracted. He wasn’t asking questions, looking away every time I looked over at him. He was looking at something far away, but every time I looked over my shoulder- there was nobody there. 

“I just want to know things.” I admitted to Mikey, trying my best to ignore his lost cause of a brother. I was not about to waste my energy on someone who didn’t seem interested in the conversation anyway, not when all of my energy went to being worried. I understood that he had been here for long, probably months or years longer than me. This life wasn’t new to him, the days merging together as the sun and moon spun around us. He probably didn’t even remember how it was to be new and confused, as it got lost in years of endless routine. Gerard didn’t even seem like he remembered what it felt like to be alive. But that didn’t invalidate my need to know my new state of existence.

“I think that’s fair.” Mikey said, finishing his last bite of food. His silver plate was picked up by a man wearing a dirty apron, a worker from the kitchen tent. He nodded over at my food before looking at me, and I let him take it away with him. The faint shrug he left me with made me feel bad, wishing that I had at least given it a chance. They had probably spent all day trying to make the inedible food somewhat edible and here I was, being a picky eater while disrespecting their work. 

"But at least she apologized, right?" He added to the end of his own sentence, looking at me from behind his thick glasses. I nodded my head slowly.

"Yeah... I wished it would make it all better." I confessed, looking down into my empty glass of water. There were a few drops left in the bottom, with a boat made of cinder floating in it. 

"I get that. It will get better." Mikey stretched his arm out to squeeze mine, making the hairs on my arm raise up under his cold touch. I had removed the heavy jacket in the warmth, only sitting there in the white button up. Thankfully, I hadn't rolled up the sleeves like I used to do back where I came from. 

“Like, I just want to know what's going on. Or what all of this is.” I gestured to the camp around us as I spoke, feeling so small in the unknown world around me. I didn't know anything about this place, if this even was an earth. How long could I walk before it stopped? Were there countries? Other parades? It was all too much. Mikey sat up straight as I confessed this to him, considering me for a while. It seemed like Gerard had listened too, pointing his attention back to the table. The brothers shared a short look, but no answer was given. 

Nightfall couldn’t have come faster, my patience quickly running out as no real answers were given. I pulled my blanket up to my chin, feeling a bit frozen from sitting outside without a jacket as day turned to night. The flames from the wasteland weren’t enough to maintain the higher daytime temperature, making me appreciate the otherwise too heavy and bulky uniform jacket. It hung on the end of my bed together with the knotted mess of pants that I had taken off beneath the blanket. The tent turned silent as the members dreamt on, only interrupted by the occasional sound of the fires breaking through a branch outside. I laid staring up at the canvas roof shielding us from the elements, not able to get comfortable. The blanket was too itchy, the bed too hard and the pillow way too thin. Falling asleep always took hours no matter how tired I was. The thought that had been playing loudly in the back of my mind came back to haunt me. Why did Gerard give me such a task when he wasn't even interested in listening when I spoke? There had been a mood change, something had happened between now and two days earlier. Was it my fault? 


	13. Chapter 13

I knew as soon as my head met the pillow that this would be another sleepless night. But the disappointment still arrived like it always did, forming a tight knot in the bottom of my stomach while the sleepy voices surrounding me died down. Soon they were replaced by lazy snores and heavy breaths that filled the tent with a smell of warmth and sweat. I let out a loud sigh as I tossed and turned in the bed, trying my hardest not to make it creak. The metal bed frame was old and rusty, and every time I moved to the left I could hear the loose screw on the front leg. When you sat down on it, it would scream as if it was in agony- and usually I would wait until someone was particularly loud before I even dared to touch it. But it was the closest thing I had to a home, and the familiarity of the stains and the noise made me feel a bit more at peace. I wasn't able to sleep though, as my thoughts continued to scream in the back of my head. 

Soon I couldn't take it anymore. The thoughts got too loud, and the insomnia too irritating. I flung my legs over the side of the bed, biting my tongue as I expected the sound. But it was almost like the bed was on my team, like it was supporting my idea. The lights danced in front of my eyes as I hoisted myself up, reaching out for the tangled pants laying at the end of the bed. The evening air bit my skin as I opened the tent flap, making me wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The heavy uniform jacket did a good job of keeping out the cold air, but it couldn't keep the wind from making my nose red and runny. There was nothing to see out in the camp, as the darkness laid as a heavy blanket over the world. No one chose to stay awake at an hour like this, and I could understand why. I had never felt more alone, like I was floating in space where there's no sound. I never thought I would miss the constant buzzing of the cicadas, hiding in the tall grass around my house. My father had always referred to them as the local city choir, constantly singing even if no one wanted to listen. I had always wondered if he called them that because of his detest for classical music- always avoiding my church recitals even if it was my turn to play the piano. The sound of the cicadas was the soundtrack of my life, and now it was gone. Over. 

I felt my leg moving forwards, but I was in no control of the direction. Aimlessly my body lead me towards the hospital tent, on the familiar path I always took. I had never been big on routine, but down here it almost felt like I was stuck on a track that I couldn't get off. I always walked close to the left side of the good smelling tent, then around the bonfire and past the long tables. The parade would be to my right by now, and I made sure not to look at it. It felt like it would curse me if I looked at it for too long and I was not about to take any chances. Emily's tent was the furthest away, standing there alone with no other tents in close proximity. All the others stood shoulder to shoulder, too close to walk between. It gave of the illusion that there were miles until you got to Emily's closest neighbor. I didn't expect her to be there as I stretched my frozen fingers out to pull the tent flap open.

"It got to be, it makes no sense for it not to."

I froze where I stood, fingers still entangled to the cloth. There was a man talking in there.

"You're being ridiculous." 

This time it was Emily's voice, I recognized her sterile nursing voice. She was not in a good mood by the sound of it. 

"You admitted it. You told Am about Unforgivables." 

It wasn't until he said my name that I recognized the male voice. Gerard had never sounded like this in my presence, his voice hurried and a bit nasal. 

"I've not said anything." Emily responded, her voice getting lower as she walked further into the tent. Gerard couldn't be further away than a meter, he had probably walked in only a few minutes before I arrived.

"Stop lying! You know the most about all of this, you know what it takes." He was upset. 

"It is all myths and rumors and legends. Let it go." I could only imagine what Emily was doing, usually when she got irritated she would focus on something else. Maybe she was standing by her silver tools. 

"I know you believe in them too, Emily. I know what you have done." 

The loud clank of the metal tools rolling around on the table confirmed my suspicions. This is the point where I would've died if Emily looked at me, knowing her fury. But it didn't sound like Gerard moved an inch, not even flinching at the noise she made. 

"You leave this tent right now!" She screamed, her voice screeching under the pressure of the sound. If she had a glass in her hand, it would probably have shattered. 

"I'll prove it to you."

I only had a split second to get away, throwing myself to the right as Gerard stormed past me. It was hard to keep balance in the dark as the gravel got hard and slippery beneath my boots. I was sure I was going to tumble over, falling head first and revealing myself to them. My heart skipped a beat as my foot slipped after the fast movement to the right, yanking my leg forward. It was going to happen, I was sure. But he didn't see me, he walked straight past. By the speed of his walk, he probably wouldn't have noticed me even if I had stood where I originally did. He was walking with determination, stomping his feet as he disappeared into the void of darkness in front of me. I kept still for another 10 minutes, not daring to move in case Emily would go after him. 


	14. Chapter 14

If my heart could beat any faster, it would positively beat through my chest. It was making it hard to breathe, giving me another reason not to sleep as my head met my pillow for the second time that night. Instead I had to lay there waiting for the morning sun, recollecting the conversation I had overheard over and over in my head. I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror on my bedside neighbors table: the eyebags mixed with the puffy, red eyes made me look deadly ill. It brought me back to a time where I constantly looked like that, no matter how much I slept. The tumor had rendered me in a state where I couldn't move, and laying in bed with only nurses taking care of you didn't do much for your appearance. They would try to comb through my tangled hair daily, and wash it twice a week. My mother would bring her lotion when she came to visit, the cream stinking of aloe vera as she promised that she would handle my dead looking skin. 

I had to collect all my bravery to make it to breakfast that morning, feeling nervous as I sat down next to Mikey like always. For a second I was sure that Gerard had seen me the previous night, as his eyes opened wide as he saw me. 

"Am!" He said loudly, his voice full of delight. 

"... Good morning?" I responded, immediately hearing the suspicion seeping through in my voice. He didn't seem to notice, a sporting a big smile. 

"Sleep well?" 

I thought my face spoke louder than words, but Mikey was apparently the only one able to read it. He let out a snort before looking over at his book again. 

"I don't think I've slept a single minute since I arrived here." I confessed, picking up my fork to stir it in the thick, porridge looking mush. It was both wet and dry at the same time, breaking off as I dragged the fork through it. 

"It will get better, I promise." All Gerard said felt like empty promises at this point, I wasn't sure if I could trust him like I had thought previously. I made a decision of keeping information away from him, just in case.

"I would pay a lot of money for a night of dreamless sleep." 

"Why wouldn't you want to dream?" Gerard's fork stopped halfway on its journey to his mouth as he asked. He seemed confused. 

"I need a break I guess." I answered, feeling like this honesty wouldn't hurt. 

"Don't you think it would help you remember things?" 

His answer took me by surprise, almost as much as the smile he sported when he saw me. 

"I guess..?" I mumbled, daring to put the mush in my mouth. It felt like swallowing extremely lumpy soup, and it made me feel nauseous. 

"Do you remember anything?" Gerard continued to dig, looking straight at me. He still struggled with making direct eye contact, always looking at my eyebrows instead of my eyes. 

"Not much." I lied, knowing fully well that the only thing that had disappeared was the names. 

It felt like a blessing having to go to work that day. Emily greeted me in a low voice as I entered the tent, standing over by Frank's head. She was stroking his hair with her left hand, just looking down at him. She seemed deep in thought as I took off the uniform jacket in exchange for the white apron. It wasn't the smartest move, knowing that the white shirt would get bloodstained sooner or later. But it was better to keep the stains on the inner layer rather on the wool outer layer. I remembered something about my mother always nagging me about how to wash wool clothing properly, but it had never stuck with me. On the shelf next to my apron laid the list they gave to me on my first day. The box for “Unforgivable” was staring blankly up at me. I looked over at Emily as she started to move, walking with fast steps over to the table with her bowl on it. She instructed me to wash his hair in the cold water she usually used to wash her hands. I put the list down again, walking over to pick it up. My green eyes met mine as my reflection stared back at me in the water, still stained a yellowish red from being used the previous day. 

"I heard you talked to the brothers." 

Emily broke the silence with the words I had dreaded the most. Gerard hadn't brought up the conversation at breakfast, and I had hoped she wouldn't either. I put the bowl down on the chair, getting ready to get my hands wet. 

"Yeah... I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to." I answered in a low voice, feeling extremely small. 

"No, it's fine. Just don't let them get you into trouble." 

Emily's warning took me by surprise. Gerard may be annoying sometimes, but he was no troublemaker from how I knew him. But then again, I had never seen the side of him that he had shown to Emily last night.

"I won't." I promised her, as she helped me angle Frank's head so it would meet the cold water. She didn't answer, letting the silence fill the room. Instead she just stood there watching me, her eyes following my hands as I ran my fingers through his wet hair. It was matted and crusty, filled with a mix of his blood, his stomach fluids and the ash he woke up in. It made the water turn a muddy brown color. It made me wonder who had washed my hair, if Emily had done it. She had been alone here when I arrived, apart from Mother War's entrance when I woke up. 

"What have they told you about the Unforgivables?" 

Emily broke the silence once more, her voice cold as ice. It stung as she spoke, I could feel her eyes drilling into my skin as she watched me work. I was impossible for me to look up, it felt like I was frozen to the place I was standing. I ended up staring into the water, seeing my own startled eyes looking back up at me. 

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Emily's voice warmed up, she sounded genuinely surprised. Was there something I was supposed to know? 

"Nothing." I confirmed, still not able to look up. 

“... An Unforgivable is someone who is not able to leave.” 

Emily’s words hung there in the air for a minute, letting me take it all in. This was the second time she took me by surprise that day, almost making me lose the piece of soap I was using to scrub the blood out of Frank's hair. Emily was looking at me as she leaned forward on the end of the bed, holding herself up by the short metal bed posts. Why was she telling me this, knowing that the brothers had been digging for information. She knew they were on the trail of finding out her secrets, Gerard had even gotten to the point of yelling about it. 

“... Are anybody able to leave?” 

I dared to ask the question after realizing that the ball was over in my court. She didn’t seem willing to reveal anything before I asked, only staring at me while waiting. The feeling of suspicion arose inside of me, wondering why she suddenly wanted to talk about this now. She didn’t know me or my intentions either. The suspicion was only canceled out by a sudden warm feeling: the slight feeling of hope. I had never dared to hope, not since I got the diagnosis anyway. It hadn’t always been terminal, but all hope had left me as soon as they admitted me to a permanent stay to control the tumors growth. All my future plans and dreams had left me that day, only leaving behind the heavy feeling of hopelessness. The question hung in the air for a while, her blue eyes studied me as she tried to come up with an answer. It was clear that this was not something she was used to discussing.

“They say so... But I’ve never seen it done myself...” 

The hesitation in her voice made me dare to look up, only to see Emily who didn’t seem like she believed her own words as she slowly shook her head. The answer felt like swallowing a rock, making a heavy feeling replace the warmth. All the hope washed out again as I looked down at Frank, deciding that he was clean enough. I carried the glass bowl back over to the table it usually stood on before taking a deep breath. 

“But they're a real thing?” 

I couldn’t help but ask, hearing the words I overheard the night before ringing in my head. She had called them a myth, but still we found the question written down in black and white on my clipboard. Mother specifically asked us to point it out if we saw any clues, so there had to be something to it. Emily opened her mouth to answer, but Frank’s groaning stopped her. He couldn't have woken up at a worse time. 

We were rushed out of the tent as Mother War entered, her silent footsteps overshadowed by our frantic ones as we left them alone. Standing outside of the canvas walls, I could hear Frank’s voice for the first time. It was a bit hoarse but softer than I had expected. Emily dug around in her deep apron pocket for a moment, before finding a small, metal tin filled with thin cigarettes. She lit one as we stood there waiting to be let back in, feeling the slight warmth of the sun through the gray clouds. What an ironic thing to do, smoking in a world where every breath stung like you inhaled a beehive. The smoke left her thin lips as she exhaled, reaching the cigarette over to me as a friendly gesture. I shook my head, terrified of the return of 16 year old me puking all over her. She laughed at me, before taking another deep breath. They were menthols, I could smell it. 

“So there is a way to get out of here?” 

I felt hopeful that the cigarette had softened her mood as I dared to ask for the second time. She rolled her eyes, leaning upwards as she blew the minty smoke in my face. It tickled my nose and made my eyes water. The sharp pain made my heart beat faster, it was hard to decipher if I enjoyed the feeling or not. Something deep within me wanted her to do it again, even if hurt.

“Don’t you think that if I knew, I would’ve been gone already..?” 

Emily caught me in my short mindedness, her blue eyes digging into me as she slightly tilted her head to the side. But she was right. She, like me and all the others, weren't here because we wanted to. This wasn’t an option, no one had chosen to come here. We were all found by Mother War, destined by her to share a collective fate once she felt like she had collected enough pigs for slaughter. I didn’t get much time to think about it before cold shivers started running down my back. It felt like someone was staring at me, digging their eyes into me in disgust. The nausea overwhelmed me as my search came out unsuccessful. It couldn’t be Emily, as she was too busy stomping out her cigarette with the high heel of her white shoe. And the only other parade members in view were heavily invested in a loud discussion about the dinner that would be served shortly. Dreading it, I looked behind me only to see the yellow tarp. Could Mother War see me through it? I took a step away just in case, feeling the nausea creeping up from the bottom of my stomach and up into my throat. The thought of having food later made me feel miserable, I wish the others would shut up already. I let myself sink down on the ground, crouching as the ash flurried playfully around me in tiny tornadoes. 

“Are you alright Am?” 

My eyes were closed, Emily’s voice echoing from far away. She could scream at me and I would only be able to hear the soft whisper of her voice through the sea of nausea. 

“Yeah, I’m alright...” 

I buried my face in my hands, feeling the cold sweat coating my forehead. It was hard to fight the hopelessness served with every question answered, together with the feeling of always being watched. My every move felt monitored, like they wanted to watch me as I sank deeper and deeper into the horror I found myself in. They wanted to see me suffer, wanted me to get my hopes up only to crush them like the cigarette under Emily’s white heel. All answers were designed that way, slapping me in the face as the curiosity finally took over. I needed to learn how to shut up, how to keep quiet like the others did. You never saw anybody else here digging for answers, they were all so busy with their own lives. They were living while I was sinking, entertaining them as I did so. I was the perfect target for this kind of punishment. I could hear the sound of metal eyelets hitting the tent, the tent flap being thrown open by Mother War. I looked up, struggling myself to my feet as I saw who accompanied her. There he was, with his platinum blonde hair. Gerard looked like a ghost in the soft light from the clouds, so weirdy fitting into this world. He wasn’t looking at me, not paying any attention as I struggled to stand up. Emily was staring back at him as he looked at her, a war fought in between them but no words were exchanged. As Mother War floated over towards me, Gerard turned on his heel and disappeared into the yellow tent. 

“You can cross off that he’s not one of them, Am. Good job today.” 

There was no sign of warmth in Mother War’s muffled voice, even though the compliment seemed genuine. She then disappeared as quickly as she had appeared, with no way of knowing which direction she had taken off in. My thoughts had previously touched on the theory of her not being human like the rest of us, and this felt like it confirmed it. She could move with the wind, appear and disappear as she wanted instead of using roads nature paved out for us. Maybe she shed her skin at night, turning into a bat winged demon when no one was looking. I couldn’t help wondering what kind of purpose she served as she creeped among us. 

“I agree wholeheartedly. You can go back to your tent now if you want to.”

Emily’s stern voice penetrated itself into my thoughts, and for once I couldn't be more thankful. 


	15. Chapter 15

It felt like I was caught in limbo as I greeted the usual crowd at the end of the day. Nothing seemed like anything out of the ordinary as I sat down, even though I felt like a cup filled to the spilling point. It was becoming all too much, the thoughts and feelings overwhelming me. I hated the feeling, back in life I had never been one who enjoyed being in the middle of drama. Back then I would avoid it like a plague, running in the opposite direction at the first visible sign of something being wrong. I would hide, often losing friends in the process as I locked myself in- avoiding their eye contact and remaining silent when they interrogated me. The drama would often turn out for the worse this way, transfering the focus from the actual problem to me, the one who seemed like they kept secrets. I hated the loneliness it brought with it even as I sat here right between the two people I was closest with. But like back there: there was no one to trust with my worries. Gerard had no idea what I knew, and even if I had started to mildly enjoy my time with Emily was she not one to confess to. I could imagine her long fingernails digging into my neck as she held me in a chokehold, her grip cold as ice and her eyes hot as fire. I could never confess what I had heard to her, not under any circumstance. I made a silent oath to never even mention what I overheard, it would stay between me and myself alone. But I couldn't escape the intrusive thoughts, all the information sounded like they were in a screaming match: trying to overthrow the others and coming out the victor. None of it was useful information, at least not to me. I didn’t even know where we were, or what this place was supposed to be. I didn’t know why I woke up in a world filled with cinder and ash, or if I was destined to stay here forever. Legends had no value to me, because I was not from here. I was a foreigner, I was new to all of this. Deep down I knew that letting myself getting tangled up in petty drama about something that may not even be real was a huge waste of my time. I did not wake up here just to become their own personal detective, when the only thing they did was holding huge amounts of information away from me. It seemed like Mikey picked up on my train of thoughts running thousand miles per hour as he looked up, my eyes meeting his.

“Am, is everything okay? You look pale.” He asked, tilting his head a bit forwards to look at me over the top of his glasses. His eyes were a grayish blue color, but behind his glasses they looked black. His voice was gentle as he spoke, a side I had not yet seen from him. I had always perceived him as cool, calm and collected. 

“Yeah…” I mumbled, feeling the tears pushing on behind my eyes. I swallowed hard, trying my best not to cry. I didn’t want them to see me like that.

“It’s alright, you can tell us.” Mikey kept looking at me, measuring me. 

“It’s fine!” I said, louder than expected. I felt myself settling at the breaking point, so close to be pushed back to the bottom. 

“Mikey, don’t…” Gerard shot into our conversation, his hand raised as an attempt to stop him from talking. He wasn’t looking at me, sharing the same look with his brother as he had shared with Emily. 

“Gerard, don’t you clearly see that something is wrong?” Mikey’s voice was getting louder too, but his was filled with frustration. It made me feel worse, like I was bothering him. Not that this was anything new, I knew that I was getting under their skin. 

“Leave!” Gerard's hip slammed against the table as he stood up, the sharp movement making his silver mug fall over and spill all over the table. The crumbly, dry pages of Mikey’s book didn’t survive, dissolving to the touch and turning into mud. Mikey shared a last look with me, before snatching the book of the table and walking away. I watched him go, watching as the book got thrown in the trash. I couldn’t remember if he got to finish it or not. 

“I'm sorry, he does that sometimes…” Gerard sat down again, his eyes full with worry as he looked back at me. I wasn’t able to meet his gaze, opting to look to the right of his shoulder. The tears were still pushing on, making the skin under my eyes sting and prickle. I felt horrible, like I was about to vomit any second. I hadn’t felt this horrible since I arrived here. 

“You didn’t have to do that…” I whispered, still not able to look up. I locked my eyes on a couple of people sitting two tables over, deep in conversation. One of the men were gesticulating wildly, probably telling an exciting story. I longed for something like that, a stress free day where I could just breathe and be. I missed being me, and being free. I missed long days out in the sun, and the laughter from my peers. Holding back the tears didn’t get easier as I saw the memories of my friends flash in front of me. How we would skip school to steal shitty energy drinks at the local gas station. How we would run as my best friends mother would chase us around the neighborhood, trying to catch us in the act. The look I shared with my best friend as we strategically went to the bathroom 5 minutes apart to skip school together. Late night at the local, muddy lake- drinking stolen wine from our parents' personal collections. I never thought I would miss the burning summer sun, and the long talks with my mother as we did garden work. But here I was, in a shithole where the sun didn’t even make it through the clouds. 

“Yes, I did.” Gerard responded strictly. I could still feel his gaze as he watched me think. I wished he could just look away. 

“I can handle it myself...” I mumbled, feeling my hands starting to fidget. It was a bad habit, but I had been clawing on my nail beds since I was a child; leaving them dry and bleeding. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He exhaled, his voice much calmer now.

The camp felt eerily silents as we both looked away to give each other space. He waited a while before he spoke again, letting the sound of the crowd around us settle. The scene had made people look. I saw one of the members as he tried to pull Mikey aside. But Mikey had just walked right past him as he pulled his arm away with an annoyed scoff.

“Meet me tonight.” Gerard said quietly, his voice as close to a whisper as the sound of the crowd allowed. 

“What?” He took me by surprise. 

“Meet me. Tonight." He said again, seeming like he thought I didn't hear him the first time. I just blinked in response, the thoughts working quickly again in the back of my head. What did he want from me? 

"Please.” He pleaded, looking directly at me. We shared a look for a short moment, his black eyes staring directly at me with that weird sense of familiarity. I was the first to look away. 

“Okay…” I whispered, feeling the skin around my fingernail coming loose and a pearl of warm blood running down my finger. 


	16. Chapter 16

I felt nauseous as I undressed that night. Not that I ever felt anything but nauseous as I removed the layers separating me from my body, but this night was worse. The tent was dark as night as I did it, there was no way I could even remove the jacket before I had made sure that everyone around me was far away in dreamland. I didn't know anything about Gerard's plan, he didn't tell me anything. Not that anyone did ever, sitting there with their clever smiles and mysteriously shared looks. The nausea mixed itself in with the jealousy, making my bed feeling like it was a rocking boat on a wavy sea. Throwing up at the side of the bed seemed rather temping, but also extremely unpopular. The fear of being a nuisance kept us all safe this time, and I couldn't thank my fears enough. There I laid, having to fight off the feeling of slowly slipping of to sleep- my body dying as my thoughts drained me of all energy. I craved the sleep, wanting nothing more but to get a break from the hell that was this state of living. Deep in the back of my mind I knew I had to stay up for Gerard's plan to work, I was supposed to meet him. But it was so, so tempting to close my eyes, just for a second...

"... Am."

I heard Gerard's voice far away, like from the other side of the ocean. How strange was it, for him to show up in my dreams too. He was a strange man after all, I should've expected this. 

"Am!"

... Could he just give me a break? Everything was so quiet and peaceful, my body feeling light as air as I moved about. Having him here would only put me in a bad mood. 

"Am, wake up!"

It wasn't a dream. He was here. Gerard’s low voice made me shriek as I woke, but his hand moved quickly to cover my mouth. I shot him a startled look, ripping his warm hand away from my face with my own. There he was, crouching by my bed; his face lit up by a small lantern he brought with him. My hands fumbled with the blanket, pulling it even closer to my chin in an act of covering myself up. 

"Did I scare you?" Gerard was grinning as he looked up at me.

“No..?” I whispered through gritted teeth in a mix of utter confusion and anger. I still didn't know what he wanted from me, his mood changing so quickly from interest to disinterest and back to concern. He didn't know if I had any new information from the hospital tent, and he didn't know what I had heard. And he didn't owe me anything either, nothing that I knew of anyway. He was probably hopeful though, hopeful that I had something exciting for him that I couldn't share during dinner. The realization made my body feel heavy, making me want to sink deeply into the hard bed. I tilted to my head to look at him in the hope of seeing what he was after, only to see the mischievous grin growing ever larger on his pale face. 

“Let me take you out for a walk.” 

His knee joints popped as he got up, his pale hand reaching to cover the lantern with his open jacket. It felt like I had no choice as he sat down on the end of my bed like he used to when he had to wake me up, knowing how patient he used to be. I sighed as I turned sideways, stretching my arm out to grab the pants over by him. He quickly realized what I was trying to do, my fingertips just an inch short of them. He picked them up with ease and threw them, hitting me in the face with them in the process. I rolled my eyes as I slung my legs off of the bed, endlessly thankful that I had gotten used to sleeping in the yellowing button up. Hopefully he was looking away, I couldn't feel his eyes on me when I turned away like I could with Mother or Emily. I had always deeply hated having to change in front of others. I would wait until everybody was done changing after gym class before I even considered removing my clothes. Everything would stay on as I sat there on the bench, sweat running down my forehead as the warm steam filled the small locker room. I didn’t want them to see me, not ever. My older history teacher made me publicly apologize in front of my whole class every time I got back late, but it was nothing compared to having to show off my twig-like body to them. 

“Ready?”

I turned around to look at him as I buttoned the last silver button of the heavy uniform jacket, feeling a wave of regret fall over me as I caught his stare. He had been watching me the whole time, hadn’t he? I crossed my arms, looking straight back at him a desperate attempt of looking tough. He blinked fast, before quickly turning on his heel to lead the way out of the dark tent. I moved as silently as I could, scared of my boots squeaking or having my long legs lose footing in the soft gravel. Gerard pulled the heavy canvas away, holding it open for me as I leaned forward to get out. The darkness enveloped us at once, eating us alive as we walked into it. The small lantern lit up the floating pieces of ember, caught by the wind as it rushed past us. Gerard quickly passed me, leading me into the darkness. I had no choice but to follow him, my heart racing from the fear of disappearing in the night and losing him in the process. The light reflected in the dark marble making up the parade wagon, standing there like an omniscient pillar in the void. He threw the lantern up on the top of it, before hoisting himself up. I could hear the glass as it hit the marble, sounding like a craving of shattering into a million tiny pieces. My shoulders tensed up and I closed my eyes, expecting of the loud sound accompanied by the camp awakening from their deep slumber to catch us. What were the consequences of being awake during the night anyway? 

“Do you want me to help you up?” 

I dared to open my eyes to see Gerard’s pale hand reaching out towards me. I refused his offer with a shake of my head. I was tall enough, taller than him, there was no reason for me not being able to hoist myself up just like he did. I put my hands on the cold stone surface, the marble parade was perfectly smooth. It almost felt slippery under my fingers, there were no imperfections that I could feel. I could feel myself fumbling for anything to hold on to, but there was nothing there. With a heavy sigh, I started summoning all my strength, pushing myself upwards- trying to use my feet against the side to push myself up. It was a lot harder than I had expected, there was nowhere to grip or hold on. It wasn’t far down and I wouldn’t get hurt if I fell: worst case scenario was rolling an ankle, or maybe tearing my pants as I scraped my knee. But in the back of my mind, I knew that the embarrassment would be so much worse than the pain. 

The memory of the time I landed face first after trying to bike without my hands on the handlebars had kept me up at night for years. I tried to impress my brother's friends as they biked outside. They were all older than me, cooler than me. I just wanted their approval, as they were doing tricks in the cul de sac on the end of our street. One of them could ride his bike on the hind wheel, while the other could make his jump. The blood from the heavy nosebleed dyed my white t-shirt as I hit the pavement, and they laughed. I cried and they just laughed. They laughed even harder when our mother had to take me inside, screaming at me for trying things only the older boys could do. 

I could feel my foot slipping as gravity invited me to a meeting with the ground, but right before I did- I felt a strong hand gripping me by the back of my collar. Gerard hauled me up on the parade by the nape, pulling my hair slightly in the process. I was close to choking as the uniform tightened around my neck, making me heave for breath as he let go of me. He laughed as he walked away. 

“You’re allowed to ask for help if you need it, you know?”

I shrugged, needing a moment to collect myself before walking over to sit down next to him. But thinking about it didn't make it any better. No, I was clearly not allowed to ask questions? They got mad at me every time I did, and if not- they shared mysterious looks before leaving me alone. My irritation grew along side with my throat getting drier from the few seconds of choking. My lungs were struggling to take in the heaves of oxygen, even if the air was a lot cleaner during the night. As it all cleared up, I felt the irritation grow ever larger as I watched him sit down. He knew my problems with asking, he knew the trouble it had gotten me into previously. He would’ve at least known if he listened to my conversation with Mikey instead of staring out in the air at nothing. The dull light from the lantern lit the outline of Gerard, resting at the front of the parade with one leg dangling down next to the flower wreath decorating the centerpiece. How could he just sit there like this was nothing, was all of this just a joke? He clearly didn't see any problems with any of this, as he looked off into the distance. With a heavy sigh I walked myself over, sitting down next to him. Usually he would look back at me with the familiarity I was getting so used to, but this time he just continued to looking away. He was staring into the darkness like he was seeing something I couldn’t. 


	17. Chapter 17

The cold wind filled with stinging cinder tickled my face as we sat together in the endless sea of darkness. It was pleasant sitting here next to him in total silence, even if the irritation bubbled and fumed underneath my skin. Gerard would glance over at me every once in a while, resting his eyes for a moment before looking back into the abyss. I pretended not to notice, mostly to avoid embarrassing him but also out of fear of what I could say. I was afraid of ruining the moment, of snapping at him just because of a stupid comment. His platinum hair made him look like a ghost in the dull light illuminating from the tiny lantern. I caught myself occasionally observing him too, slowly realizing that I was right. He was a ghost. We all were. We were cursed souls tied to this campsite, the marble parade, going nowhere as it stood still. That was probably why I couldn’t find the strength to run, because my soul was bound to the black marble we rested on. I wondered how long I had to stay here. Years? Eternity? But I guessed it didn’t really matter, not to him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind as we shared the silence, listening to the eerie wind as she broke through the frail branches hanging high over the tents. 

“I thought it would be nice with some alone time.” 

Gerard broke the silence, ending the moment we shared together. I allowed myself to look over at him, tilting my head a bit to the left. 

“I suppose?” I asked, not knowing where he was headed. He was annoyingly hard to read, his shifty mood making him unpredictable. He was watching me with that familiar look he always looked at me with when he was in a good mood, so I guessed it was a good sign. He smiled faintly before looking back into the endless void in front of us. Sitting on the edge of the parade felt like sitting on the edge of the world, legs dangling over an endless abyss. The small lantern had no chance in hell to reach our legs, making it impossible to see how far down it actually was. 

“How are you doing lately?” Gerards gentle voice sounded so soft in comparison to the screams of the wind, fighting with the trees around us and the popping sounds of the small fires as they broke through their piles of rubbish. 

“It’s getting better.” I admitted, letting out a heavy sigh as I did so. It felt good having someone ask me about how I was feeling, and not about what I was doing. Deep down, I knew that I needed this. 

“You look a lot better... Compared to how you looked when you arrived... I mean.” Gerard quickly backtracked in his sentence, fumbling with his own words. It made me laugh, knowing that I wholeheartedly agreed. Getting here, I had been a miserable corpse. But staying had at least made me feel a bit more alive, a lot more than in the last months of my life. 

“Thank you. It feels good to at least be doing something.” I answered, alluding to my job with Emily. I didn’t know where I wanted to go with this, not really wanting to talk about her with Gerard after witnessing the tension between them. But it was thanks to her that things were getting better, next to the work put in by the brothers. 

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” I could hear a muted excitement in his voice as he asked the question. 

“Shoot.” I answered, trying to stay as open minded as possible. But knowing him, I knew that another favour could be looming. And with what I had overheard only a few nights ago, it could very well be Emily related. I hoped it wasn’t so. 

“Do you remember anything… from before you got here?” 

So that was where he was going. I thought we were over this, as I had gotten used to using the amnesia card any time someone asked. The truth was that I remembered a whole lot. It was the faces that were blurred, their names washed away. Trying to remember felt like looking at a chalkboard washed with a dry sponge, the remnants of the chalk still lingering but the lines were all blurred out. Just thinking about it made the tears start gathering, and I quickly rubbed my eyes to cover it up. 

“No… Nothing.” I lied, trying my hardest to sound convincing. 

“Absolutely nothing?” I don’t think Gerard noticed that I noticed him scooting a bit closer, his thigh dangerously close to touching the small lantern that sat between us. I had no intention to get closer, my instincts were telling me the opposite. 

“It’s dark.” I lied, deciding to look away from whatever he was trying to do. 

“I want to help you.” Gerard said, a little louder than expected. It caught me off guard. 

“Help me with what?” 

I felt the previous annoyance starting to bubble once again. He had no right coming to me now, weeks into my stay here and offering help. He was the main perpetrator of keeping secrets from me. Emily at least made an effort to tell me what she could, even if the information was mostly useless. She had told me so much, and Gerard had done the opposite. I could feel my fingernails dig into the palm of my hand as they involuntarily turned into fists. I wondered why he had to be like this, why he had to be so immensely annoying. It felt like he only looked at me when he felt like it, his attention span seeming too short to stay with me for long. Gerard could be as kind as he wanted, but he really knew how to get under my skin. Or maybe he was just oblivious. It didn’t seem like it, as he had noticed my frustration with all of this. 

“With the memory thing… And finding out who you are.” 

Gerard scooted even closer as he talked, the lantern feeling the sharp push as it toppled over. The shattering of glass sounded like a gunshot through the air, silencing the wind for a moment and making the world stand still. Gerard was quick to act as he realized his mistake, the shards cutting his skin as he picked up the candle; the flame eagerly reaching over to start eating the side of my pants. He held the candle in his right hand as he stood the lantern up with the left, brushing away some of the glass as he sat the candle back in its place. The glass fell off the parade, sounding like what I would imagine snow to sound like as they fell into the void. 

“Are you okay?” I asked, grabbing his left hand as he pulled it towards himself. Blood didn’t scare me anymore, not after seeing what death had done to Frank as he healed in the hospital tent. I started removing the tiny shards of glass that had dug their way into his skin, listening to his tiny moans of pain as he tried to suppress them. We sat like this for a while, his blood getting on my hands as I tried my best to help him. In the back of my mind I hoped he would let the topic we left off on go.

“Yeah… Thankfully, you work in the nursing tent.” Gerard answered between gritted teeth, pulling his hand back to inspect it. With it left the warmth, leaving my hands cold and bloodied. 

“You should probably get that looked at… By someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” I answered, not wanting to take any credit for the work Emily did. I was only there to wash rags and sort through her things. She was the one doing the saving, the real work. 

“It’s more important to me that you get help.” He responded, reverting straight back to the original topic. I felt the dread looming in my chest, making me feel heavy and annoyed. 

“I think it would be a lot more important to actually tell me things, rather than keeping secrets like you all always do.” 

It wasn’t my intention to release my frustration on him, but the floodgates were finally opened. The annoyance had turned from bugs crawling underneath my skin to a fully fledged dragon screaming inside of my chest. I could feel my face turning red as it started to burn.

“I’m so sorry, but it’s for the best.” Gerard seemed sympathetic as he answered, but it wasn’t what I wanted. 

“It’s so frustrating being around you. Around all of you, actually.” I answered honestly, trying my hardest to keep the irritation to myself. It was growing larger and larger for every word he said. It clawed on my insides trying to escape, trying to find a way out. It felt painful as it bubbled and crawled inside of me.

“I know. I was new here once too.” 

Gerard's glanze had moved away from me now, and was back to staring off into the distance. He was biting his lip as he thought about what I had said, and I watched him as his eyes fought the darkness. It looked like he was looking for something, inspecting the night closely but not getting anywhere. 

“Then why don’t you make it easier for me then?”

My voice cracked as the frustration peaked through in my words, staring directly at him. He finally looked back at me, our eyes meeting for a second before he quickly avoided me again.

“You need time, Am, and you shouldn’t be pushing it. You don’t even know who you are.” 

My nails dug even deeper into my palms as my hands turned back into fists, my knuckles turning white as snow. I knew he was right, but it didn’t seem fair to blend my access to knowledge about the world and about myself together. I still had to be here, no matter if I liked it or not. Learning my name wouldn’t get me out of here, I was sure of it. 

“... I still have the right to know what’s going on here!” 

Our eyes met again, but not for long. He was busy looking at me, but at my hair, and my shoulders. My hands. It was that familiar gaze again, the one where he looked after something I couldn't give him. I wished he would give it a break. 

“... You’re right. But I have no authority in telling you the truth.” 

Gerard’s voice was filled with concern, breaking away from his detective work. He looked kinda disappointed, like he had realized that all of his hard work had been for nothing. His look almost reminded me of the feeling of writing a really good essay, only to realize that you had been doing the wrong assignment all along. 

“You need to stop underestimating me. I’m not a child.” I retorted, realizing that I was raising my voice as I got more and more fed up. Life before this state of existence had been pure hell, I was sure there wasn’t anything that could be worse than that. 

“Am, I’ve been here way longer than you. We’re not doing this just to mess with you.”

He looked angry now, clenching his jaw as he spoke through gritted teeth. 

“How long have you been here?” I asked, allowing myself the satisfaction of asking. It was one of the things I had been wondering about for a while, never finding the right time to ask. He looked like he could be my brother's age, only a few years older than me. I caught him off guard, as he looked back over at me. He blinked fast for a moment, not answering. 

“You can start there.” I said, leaning back while supporting my weight on my arms. A weak twitch was starting to form on Gerard’s left eye. 

“I don’t know, time doesn’t work like that here.” He replied, biting his lip again. 

“That won’t do.” I retorted again as it became my turn to look forward into the distance. The petty feeling warmed my body, it felt good to finally have some form of control. It was the first time I had felt like that since I got here. 

“Am, I’m not joking with you. It was 1947 when w… when I died.” 

His voice was weak when it left him, all traces of anger were gone. The bad feeling of having gone too far washed over me, a lump in my throat making it harder to breathe. 

“I’m sorry...” I said, looking over at him again. He wasn’t looking at me, looking down at his hands instead. I watched his dark eyes fill with water as he relived the memories: the white turning pink as tears escaped him. Gerard usually looked like he was pulled straight out of an old Sin City comic, it felt weird seeing the color hidden within him. I wondered if he had been like this in life too, devoid of any color. 

I let him be as he sat there, sitting awkwardly next to him as I let him collect himself. Gerard’s cries were weak, if it wasn’t for the absolute silence of the night I would’ve never been able to hear them. They were sniffles while tears ran silently, no dramatic sobs or gasps. Something within me wanted to reach out, but I kept it to myself in fear he wouldn’t like it. He rubbed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath before looking back at me. His cheeks had gotten a bit swollen, his eyes puffy and pink. He looked kinda cute like this, with all the intimidation stripped away from him. 

“Asking too many questions will only get you hurt.” He said, rubbing his left eye. 

“The only ones hurting around here are the people I ask.” I said, my voice low but piercing through the silent night. He rubbed his under eyes, visibly annoyed with me. 

“That’s because I want to protect you until it’s time.” He said through gritted teeth, hiding his face in his hands to rub off the evidence of his sorrow. Gerard looked even more like a ghost as he looked back at me, cold against the dark backdrop. The warmth I knew him for seemed to have disappeared, there wasn't a single trace of his helpful smile as he wanted to help me up. It was like sitting next to a stranger. 

“I’ve never asked for protection…” I said in the same low voice, regretting even coming out here with him. I should’ve stayed in bed, that was the only place I hadn’t been able to hurt anybody. 

  
  



	18. Chapter 18

We sat in silence, not looking at each other for what felt like an hour. The only thing keeping him away from me was the broken lantern, the flame of the candlelight hissing threateningly is it got caught in the wind. As the wind grabbed a hold of the flame it would inch itself closer to our legs, eagerly wanting to eat away at us but never being able to get a hold. In some weird way did the curious flame feel like protection from what was to come. It shielded me from him, from having to get closer. It was my only ally in this fight that I was surely losing. The wind sounded like it agreed as it went weirdly quiet, like it had witnessed what had happened. I didn’t know what was more awkward: the deafening silence I usually shared with Emily or the tension I now shared with Gerard. Every time he dared to look over, he would simultaneously avoid my gaze. The brief eye contact made me feel like I was being stung: like an electric shock sparking between us and forcing me to look away. It was like we were fighting; screaming at each other without a word being exchanged.

"You don't know what's best for you."  
It took a while before Gerard spoke again, the sentence started with a sigh and ended with the empty look out in the void rather than resting his eyes on me. There were no trace of the small tears that had been running down his face, no evidence of previous weakness. He just went back to being his black and white self. It made me feel uneasy how quickly he was able to pull himself back together. If it was me, I would've left this conversation long ago- only to keep thinking about it every night as I tore myself up over it. But still I continued to act like this, not able to control myself. I knew what was right and what was wrong, and still I chose to abuse whatever we had. 

"How would I know, when ya'll won't tell me anything?" My reaction reminded me of being a bratty 16 year old, and I instantly regretted speaking. I knew that every word I spoke only adding fuel to the fire, and that things would not get easier if I kept this up. But the cup was overflowing, my body was not physically able to keep it in anymore. I felt the beating inside of my chest grow faster as the anger clawed at the back of my throat. It was hard to breathe, and even harder to think. My only coherent thought was the willingness to continue interrogating him. He was the one that expected me to do work for him while smiling and never asking for a thing in return. This would be my payment for my work. 

"Could you just listen to me for one second?" Gerard pleaded, his voice still as cold as ever. I opened my mouth, but was quickly shut down.  
"Without you interrupting me." He finished, not even looking at me- still just staring into the air in front of us. 

"I'm all ears." I teased, feeling myself growing more and more petty by the second. He shook his head as he let out an even heavier sigh, making his breath look like thick smoke leaving his lips. He thought for a long while before speaking again, clenching his jaw before letting the words escape him. 

"... You know the Unforgivables right?" 

It was the last drop. I was done. I flung my legs back onto the parade to stand up, mere inches away from burning myself on the eager flame. Normally this sharp of a movement would make me dizzy, but my rage had taken over. The marble felt slippery under my boots as I got up, making me tower over Gerard who was still sitting down. He was watching me now, not taking his eyes off of me. He looked like his thoughts was running a thousand miles an hour, trying desperately to figure out what to say next. But I spoke before he could say anything. 

"I'm so tired of your bullshit!" I yelled down at him. It was unbearable, knowing that I had finally done it. The bond between us, the one I never cared too much to tend to or appreciate, was surely over. I hadn’t realized before this moment how much I relied on him, and on his company. But still, I couldn't stop myself. I knew deep down that he functioned as my safety here, that he was my guide. And now I had made him hate me, probably so much that he would never be able to look at me again without feeling visible disgust. Seeing me probably made him nauseous, I could see how he looked at me like I was gum stuck to his shoe. He let out another heavy sigh, the air mimicking Emily's menthols. The air was almost at the freezing point, the heavy jacket was the only thing keeping me from the looming hypothermia. I felt myself shivering there I stood, scared of what he would do and watching him as he considered what would be his next move. 

"Am, if you would just listen to me..." His sharp, but elegant movement as he got to his feet made me move further away from him, walking backwards towards the middle of the parade. He stood on the edge for a while, probably considering me this time. 

"I don't give a fuck about those silly fairytales!" I yelled back at him, my tears pushing on and legs shaking beneath me. The annoyance was being turned to pure anger at this point, filling my head with the intoxicating feeling of rage. But deeper inside of me was a tiny voice, telling me about how it felt wrong to scream at him like this. It wasn't his fault that he had to become the target of all of my feelings, it spoke in gentle tones. But I couldn't help it, I was in no place to listen. He was coming closer now, pushing me backwards with his presence. Soon, it was my turn to stand on the edge of the parade.

"It's the key to getting out of here!" Gerard yelled back, mirroring the anger back at me. It felt like we were fighting in two different languages, not understanding each other at all but still expecting the other to simply figure it out. Soon he was standing only an arms length away from me.

"I don't even know where this place is!" I retorted, and without thinking I had done it. I pushed him away from me, feeling like he had me in a corner. The shove made him lose his balance for a split second before regaining it, but he didn't come back to revenge himself. He was much stronger than I had expected, and the push made my wrist ache almost instantly. I had to fight not to cry at this point, my breath becoming more and more shaky for ever word I spoke. My nails dug themselves deeper into my palms as I stared at him, finally breaking the skin as small drops of warm crimson started to trickle out. My blood quickly mixed itself with the dried blood from Gerard, and soon it would be impossible to see what belonged to who. At least my hands felt warm again. Looking up again, it was almost impossible to see his face. But it was easy to see that his eyes was filling up with anger equal to mine.

"It's not fucking hard to realize that we're going to Hell, are you fucking braindead?!" 

His words sounded like a gunshot in the dark, filling my ears with a loud ringing. I really had thought that I could handle what was coming, the thing that had been looming in the back of my mind ever since I got here. The realization of the worst case scenario had become reality felt like an invisible arm shot through the air in front of me as it ferociously grabbed at my throat. I was being drowned on land, the burning air not able to fill my lungs as I died. All of my instincts were working at once, clawing at my insides in the endless struggle of keeping me alive. I was being pulled under the surface by my own panic, seeing this world, every world being teared away from me. My body was being ripped into pieces by thousands of eager hands and I wanted to scream, but no voice could leave my empty throat. Tears were pushing on as the body that had carried me this far finally broke down. I was shaking from the cold, but burning up with sweat. I wanted to claw my skin off, bleed out before the demons could get a hold of me. I couldn’t move, tied down by the feeling of dying. I felt my knees giving in underneath me, sending another sharp pain into my body. But it was nothing compared to dying. 

And then a warm hand came out of nothing and touched mine, holding it tightly. It felt like Gerard had grabbed me by the back of my neck once more, keeping me from falling down into the nothingness. He was pulling me up slowly, as the stinging air finally made its way down into my lungs. I could barely see his dark eyes as I opened my own, seeing him crouched in front of me. And even when I flinched, scared of him hurting me- he just held on. It made me feel even worse, even if the warmth of his hand started warming me up. It felt like I had been drenched in cold water, but still he just sat there. Waiting. There were no words I could say, as I cried silently. He let me have that, but he didn't leave me alone. Why was he still here? 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, tightening his grip of my hand as he spoke. I knew deep down that I deserved this pain, as I begged and screamed for answers. My father always warned me that those who look would find, even if the truth wasn't the one you hoped for. He always said so from the back of the newspaper when I vented about school to my mother. In later years, I understood what he meant: that he never wanted me to look for ways to get myself hurt. I guess a life of blissful ignorance would be peaceful, but I was never able to keep my nose out of other people's business. Especially not if they were talking about me, targeting me for not being like them. I couldn’t come back to him when I got burnt, seeing him hide behind his big newspaper while speaking a soft “what did I say?”, before I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me. 

Gerard continued to hold my hand, never letting go no matter how sweaty they were starting to become. Holding onto him felt like holding a burning torch only inches away from scorching flame, that I was getting too close for my own good. The thought of eventually having to let go sometime lingered in the back of my mind, my body suddenly filling up with dread. I felt the truth confirming itself, that he was my safety after all. My eyes were closed, but I could hear him as he leaned over- clumsily stroking some of my greasy hair out of my face and behind my ear. I felt my shoulders tense up as I felt his short nails gracing my skin as he did so, and the goosebumps rushed to cover my body. His breath smelled of coffee as I felt him move closer. And with every inch, the more overwhelming the smell of him became. He smelled like walking between a coffeeshop and a perfume kiosks at the mall, having to swim to the other side of the heavy sea of fragrances. But as soon as he came, he pulled away: leaving me in the stench of cinder, sweat and cold air. I held my breath as I dared to open my eyes, looking for him. Our eyes met once more, but this time he didn’t look away.

“I'm so sorry.” He whispered again, the darkness making it hard for me to read his lips. I shook my head in response, feeling the hair coming loose again from behind my ear and stick to my skin once more. He nodded, letting out another heavy breath. I did the same, holding it for a while longer before speaking again. My lips had gotten chapped from the mix of cold air and the fear, and I felt it crack open in the usual place on my bottom lip. With the hand he wasn't holding, I whipped it away- feeling the crusty mix of blood against my skin. It made me shiver. 

"It's my fault." I whispered as a new wave of tears pushed on. I heard him sigh once more. 

"No, Am. I lost my temper." He said, a little louder this time. I think we both knew that I was the one that lost it, and I felt bad for him taking the blame. I didn't deserve this treatment. 

"I should't have pushed you..." I whispered through gritted teeth. He shook his head again. 

"I deserved it." He answered, but I knew he was wrong. 

"You don't deserve any of this." I whispered. 

I saw his shadow tilting his head a bit to the side, thinking a bit before speaking again.

"We're all going to get what we deserve." He said, his voice sounding weirdly thoughtful. It stung a bit in my chest, knowing that there was still so much to come. He knew much more than I did, and this was only the tip of the iceberg. 

"You do?" I answered, feeling my index finger starting to claw on the nail on my thumb. He squeezed my hand once more, before letting me go. I had expected the sensation of falling, of slipping away between his fingers as he threw me away. The cold immediately tried to eat up my hand, and I quickly started missing the feeling of his warm hand against mine. 

"Yes. But you need to work with me if this is going to work." Another clue. I had no way of figuring out what he ment, and at this point I didn't want to ask any more questions. Tonight had been more than enough. 

“I’m sorry for pushing you.” I whispered, struggling with stopping my sniffles from coming back. My tears had finally dried up, but my nose was still working against me. 

“You were going to have to hear it one day, so I guess I’m glad you got it from me.” 

He exhaled as he said so, looking like a burden was lifted off of his shoulders too. There were no way I would ever be capable of thanking him. 


	19. Chapter 19

We stayed together until the night ended, both knowing that we had to return at the first signs of sunrise. Nobody caught us that night, but I'm still unsure if there was anything to catch. Gerard didn't act like being out past bedtime was a crime, but what could I know? But from reading his body language, I understood that it was preferred to get back before people awoke to ask questions. Thinking about it, I was still unsure of the rules of the parade. The thoughts stuck with me as I snuck back under the covers, pulling the gray wool all the way up to my chin. People around here seemed like they followed a script, knowing exactly where they were supposed to be at any given time. Without an alarm or a signal they would wake at the same time, and they would decide in unison when it was too cold and dark to stay out. They would be waking up any minute now, and I would have to join them like nothing had ever happened. I laid there still dressed in my uniform, scared of undressing in case they decided that it was time. The skin beneath my eyes prickled and burned, the dark circles turning my pale skin a sickly color of purple: adamant of revealing my "secret" outing to the world. My eyelids felt like unbearably heavy as they closed, getting me stuck in limbo between sleeping and daydreaming.

I don’t know how long I stayed like this, but the tent I woke up in was significantly less crowded than the one I got back to. I stretched, feeling my shoulders pop and release a sharp cracking sound. It sounded like I was breaking, like a dry twig being snapped under a heavy boot. My shoulders tightened as my body tensed up, and I gently pulled my arms down again. I dreaded leaving this bed and going out there again. The tent shielded us from the world out there, the yellow canvas fighting a battle to keep me safe from what I now knew was Hell. But under the thin covers I felt safe, like I could postpone my meeting with this new reality. It felt like I had died for the second time, and not before now had I actually awoken at the Parade. Before, I was a foreigner; maybe even a tourist in this world. But now it was mine too, even if I hated the feeling of it. But it also gave me a slight feeling of control, knowing where we were headed. Gerard had told bits and peaces about Hell, but he never dove down into specifics. The time we had already spent at camp suggested that they had been out walking for some time, maybe even days on end. It didn’t seem likely that they would stop for close to a week, only to walk for a day. Feeling a bit empowered, I dared to pull off the blanket to start my second first day. 

I could hear the muffled sounds of forks hitting plates as I tried to make myself look a bit less disheveled, listening to their eager voices raising in volume as they tore into the first meal of the day. My stomach rumbled, and I knew that I needed to get out there quickly wanted to get fed. The meal times were strict, and there was never anything to either eat or drink outside of the set schedule. I wondered if it was because they rationed out the food to make sure we all got fed to the bitter end, or if it was just another way to torture us. Taking a deep breath, I stretched out for the tiny mirror standing on the wooden table between mine and my neighbors bed. It had a deep crack through the middle, actively causing someone in the camp 7 intense years of bad luck. Looking into it reminded me of looking into a kaleidoscope, showing my face like it was a puzzle wrongly pieced together. I ran my fingers through my greasy hair as I looked at myself. It had gotten longer than my mother had ever allowed it. We had been good about keeping it short in the hospital, trying to give the nurses a break from having to detangle my messy curls every day. I had never been a fan of the chaos framing my face, but the length at least gave it a decent bounce. If it kept growing at this rate, it would start getting into my eyes. I met my own gaze in the mirror, noticing the scar above my left eyebrow. There were 6 stitches sewed into it, black crust of blood lining the edges of the thick wound. Did Emily stitch me up like this, or was this the cause of my death? No matter what the answer was would it be covered soon, my unruly hair would make sure of that. 

The mirror hit the table with a loud thud as I threw it away, almost suffering the same damage as the previous person had inflicted upon it. The sound was followed up by a discontent voice from a girl sitting a few beds over, asking me to “please respect what doesn’t belong to me”. She reminded me of the girls I went to high school with, those girls with the blonde hair pulled tightly in a ponytail as they walked in huge groups. I had never connected with those kinds of people, no matter how hard I had tried. They weren’t into people like me. They saw me as something alien, like something that would die alone because the thought of dating me revolted them. Born with a silver spoon in their mouths, they never wanted to be seen with a freak. There was one exception, the one girl that had come to the hospital not long after I got admitted. Her long acrylic nails caressed my cheek as she wiped my tears away, her hand lotion smelling of champagne and strawberries. She was wearing red lipstick, leaving a bright mark on my forehead that I was reluctant to have the nurses wipe off. I wanted to keep her with me for as long as I could. She came multiple times the first week, pulling the chair with her so she could sit as close to my face as possible. I could hear her voice clearly in my mind, it sounded like she was singing when she asked me questions. We even took a picture together on her disposable camera.   
“So I can have a memory of you in case something happens.” She said, while gently running her fingers through my messy hair. I would soon learn that she used the picture to earn brownie points at my old high school, showing off her empathic side as she was running for class president. I didn’t let her visit me after learning about her motives. Opening up to someone never got any easier either.

Even if the sun never made it through the clouds, she still managed to blend me when I opened the canvas flap. Blinking a few times, I felt my eyes adjusting to the familiar sight of the camp that had been invisible just a few hours ago. The darkness had made the space feel wast and empty, like the half circle of tents were miles away from where we had been. The camp was just big enough for me to get lost if I walked around by myself, still not fully sure of what all the tents were. By the end of the tables stood the parade like always, the dark stone shining in the faint sunlight. I took a deep breath as I started walking, letting myself feel all the new impressions of the world around me. It didn't look any different than the previous morning, but still it felt like a new world. Things made just a little bit more sense now, and it felt refreshing- like I was born again. I still dreaded being here, that feeling hadn't changed overnight.   
I felt myself smile for a bit as I spotted him, sitting by one of the long tables. It was never hard to find Gerard in a crowd, his platinum blonde hair always giving him away between the sea of black and brown. I started to walk fast to save myself a seat opposite him, craving a reason to look straight at him and not from the side like the other night. Gerard smiled a reserved smile as I sat down, wishing me good morning. I was apparently much more excited to see him than he was to see me, that was for sure. His gaze avoided mine like usual, drifting off in other directions. I decided to not think much of it, knowing myself and my ability to overthink situations. I had to convince myself that he still tolerated me, that he wanted me to be here. Trying to think of something else, I turned my attention to the silver plate in front of me. The food served was almost as grey as the world around us, and always either stale and moldy, or too wet and mushy. Today’s menu consisted of moldy slices of bread, with a side of something that may have been Romano lettuce before it died. Gerard was eating eagerly, but I struggled with getting the food down. The food could probably taste pretty good if you didn’t have any memories of what it normally would taste like. No matter how much I poked at it with my fork, this was the only meal provided before the sun started to set. I drew a deep breath, forcing the first mouthful down with the help from the foggy water next to my plate. 

“How did you sleep?” 

From the sound of his voice, it didn’t sound like he had a good one either. I wondered if he dreamed similarly to me: seeing eerie, faceless figures running around as they tried to lead us deeper into the endless sea of hopelessness. I thought about it for a while as I tried to brave down the first mouthful. The lettuce turned into mush the second it met my fork, wilting under the touch of the cold metal. It tasted like falling off a bike on a dirt road, involuntarily getting a mouthful of the soil as your face hit the soft ground.

“I kinda understand why people get up at the crack of dawn.” I answered, feeling a yawn start forming in the back of my throat. I managed to swallow before it took form, getting a big mouthful of the smoky air.

“Yeah, the beds aren’t great.” 

Gerard didn’t seem like he caught my hint, swallowing a mouthful of the gray mush while looking distantly at me. It seemed like he looked over my shoulder rather than at me, completely indulged in his own thoughts. He reminded me of last night, of how he searched in the impenetrable darkness in front of us. I was convinced he kept more secrets where the first one came from, there had to be at least one hundred things he wasn’t telling me about. But what else was new? It wasn’t like he had kept everything a secret for me for as long as he could. The way he switched between looking at me with familiarity, and with indifference confused me. It felt like I could never be good enough, like he asked me for something I couldn’t give him. I still didn’t know much about him, none of us had really shared anything personal and I was too scared to ask. No one had mentioned the etiquette of asking about pre-death things, but I was still very good at going over the line. I knew that Gerard died in 1947, and by the look of him- he was only a few years older than me. I knew he had a brother, Mikey with the perfectly groomed hair and wire framed glasses. And as soon as he appeared in my thoughts, Mikey sat down beside me. It felt like I had summoned him, manifested him to the point of bringing him to life. He greeted us politely as he stretched out for his own plate, holding his knife and fork with precise manners. It made me feel bad as I never got completely comfortable holding utensils, always switching them back and forth between cutting and eating. 

“You got back late.” 

Mikey’s observation broke the silence, making me choke. I had just braved myself into swallowing another piece of the "breakfast", and as he spoke it immediately got stuck in my throat. The result was a loud cough, quickly followed by the food meeting its final resting place on the ground between my legs. I felt my face flush red as I looked down, not wanting to ever look back up. I could feel Mikey's cold stare piercing me, and he was still looking as I sat back up. 

"Do you know something I don't?" He asked calmly, his eyebrow raised behind the silver-framed spectacles. 

"I couldn't sleep." Gerard said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back as far as sitting on a bench allowed to. They mirrored each other, both breathing calmly as they watched at each other. 

"Not what I asked for." Mikey responded, moving his attention back to me. I felt my face flash even hotter, my index finger instinctively clawing at my thumbnail. I quickly got last nights scab off, feeling the familiar stinging move from my finger and up into my palm. It was a comforting pain. 

"You're in no position to dig." Gerard retorted, his voice growing louder. Mikey rolled his eyes impatiently. 

"And you felt like not answering a simple question would make you seem less suspicious, is that so?" He asked, looking over his glasses at his brother. 

"I just needed air," Gerard answered through gritted teeth. "Wanting to breathe isn't a crime." 

"I suppose not." Mikey shrugged, pointing his attention back to his food. I wondered why he had gotten so hostile over something simple, but he knew more of his brother than I did. 

The encounter seemed like it had scared Gerard out of his thoughts, as he now looked fully awake. I wondered what Mikey knew, if he knew that about our outing last night. None of them slept in my tent, but I could make out that they probably shared the one for the people who had been here longer. They had recently moved a new bed into mine, and as it looked used when I woke; I assumed it belonged to Frank. I hadn’t met him yet, other than on the operating table. He must’ve woken up before me. 

“Did you enjoy the fresh air, Am?” Mikey's question took me by surprise, he wasn't even looking at me as he asked. I felt forever grateful that I had given up on breakfast, feeling my breath get punched out of me as his question hit me. But I knew what I looked like, even when it had to be puzzled together in the shattered mirror. The eye bags could carry a week's worth of groceries, the skin prickling and burning every time I had to blink. I looked over at Gerard but he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were piercing into his brothers, looking ready to yell at any second now. 

"Could you please give this a break?" He pleaded angrily. Mikey just laughed in response. 

"I know you." He said, leering over at his brother. 

I never expected Gerard to lose his cool like this, watching him in shock as he threw his work down into his half finished breakfast. The gray mush flew inches away from hitting us as it splashed in all directions. And almost as quickly as it hit the plate, he was gone- storming off towards one of the tents. All I could do was look after him, feeling too awkward to run after him with his brother present. 

“... So what were you doing?” Mikey asked after a while, seeming completely unfazed by the situation. Now it was my turn to be shaken awake, finding myself with my jaw hanging slightly open as I looked at nothing out in the distance. 

“We went for a walk…” I said, blinking a few times as I thought of my answer. I didn’t know how comfortable I was with telling Mikey anything, not after I had watched him push all of Gerard's buttons. Mikey was friendly enough, never seeming cold like his brother often could. Before this morning he had seemed completely fine with me, looking at me with that same familiar look from now and again. Now he intimidated me, with his military-like posture and newly shined shoes. Mikey always looked impeccable, never a speck of cinder stuck to his freshly washed jacket. 

“Seems like quite the reaction for an evening stroll.” He noted as he finished his plate, putting his utensils on his plate with a loud clunk. A burst of annoyance boiled inside of my chest, almost as strong as the one I felt for Gerard when he didn’t tell me the whole truth to the questions I asked. 

“The most exciting thing that happened is that I almost fell face first.” I said, not looking at him while shoving the half eaten food away from me- tired of forcing it down. Gerard was the one motivating me, and without him here it didn’t feel tempting to try. Mikey laughed, before he stretched out to ruffle my greasy hair. 

“Don't fall for him.” He warned me, before he got up and left me behind.


End file.
